The Soldier
by HetaWriter - HetaReader
Summary: Lovino is grouchy and an accurate shot with a gun. However, this doesn't put off Antonio, a cheerful student and eleven years his minor. Soon, Antonio is involved with the danger, and Lovino emerges perilous waters as he tries to protect him. And Lars was stupid to think he and Antonio were just like the characters in his book. Human AU, Spamano, Adult!Lovino x Student!Antonio.
1. An Italian, A Dutchman, and A Canadian

_Greetings everyone - HetaReader/HetaWriter here. Now, if some of you read my profile, you would've seen that this story was planned as a major work for me._

_Well, here it is at long last! Make no mistake, I'm still trying to think of the body of this story as well as trying to overcome my writer's block for HetaVoice's current chapter, but I'll manage somehow._

_This story was inspired after my sister was searching up Spamano fics online and wondered what Lovino would be like if he were the older one and Antonio was the minor. Pretty much, I was inspired by that and this fic was born. It was also inspired by an episode of Law & Order SVU I watched as well (forgot which one it was, though) that involved an adult and a minor. Where do you draw the line?_

_Serious notations aside, I hope you enjoy this story (particularly you, H. Tagi - I knew you were looking forward to this piece for a long time)._

_By the way, Lars is Netherlands._

_**Disclaimer: **I do NOT own Hetalia  
_

* * *

"Dammit," a snarl ripped the once still air that darkened evening. "How much longer is it gonna take for us to fucking get there?!"

A deep voice responded coldly, "Don't get your panties in a twist, Vargas. It won't take much longer."

Straight after, a third voice – one that was much softer – cut in, "Guys, it's eight…please, don't make such a raucous…"

Despite it being a seemingly peaceful night where the sky was painted a royal blue and embedded with stars that twinkled like diamonds, the only sound in this part of the town right now was that of a sleek, black car sailing past the dimly lit houses where people chattered on from inside. The car was humming; its engine alive as its lights shone before it, lighting the path in front.

Lovino snorted as he leaned back in the back seat, "Fuck them. They're making a lot of noise themselves in their own damn houses. Seriously – sounds like they're all having a damn party or some shit…"

"For all we know, they could," a tall Dutchman with spiky, dark blonde hair responded darkly. He was sporting a scarf adorned with the colours dark blue and white. "Probably getting high now on shit as we speak…"

"Hmph, we all know _you _want that, bastard," said Lovino, amber eyes piercing at the back of the Dutchman's head.

The Dutchman gazed up at the rear-view mirror, glancing at the Italian man with a stone-hard face. However, his storm-blue eyes betrayed the glint of amusement that shone from within. "Heh…we know that _that's _true," he agreed.

"Lars," from Lovino's right, a young looking blonde man with violet eyes, glasses and a wild, dangling curl spoke up, a little worried. "Lars, are we really almost there, yet?"

The Dutchman in the driver's seat, Lars, glanced at the other blonde from his rear-view mirror. "Yeah, we're almost there," he answered back. "Positive on that one."

"Then why the hell _are_ we taking so damn long?" demanded Lovino, crossing his arms over his chest. "We should've been there about half an hour ago!"

"I can't drive any faster than the damn speed limit," said Lars sharply. "Remember the last time we got a speed ticket?"

"Yeah, I remember that," Lovino looked irritated. "We had to bust your damn ass out of jail because you were stupid enough to drive while you were high on God knows what the hell you were sniffing that night!"

"You blaming me, Italian?"

"Yeah, I'm fucking blaming you!"

"Why the hell you putting the blame on me?" Lars asked, annoyed. "Not my fault that we're running late to the rendezvous point to get the damn goods."

"Um, Lars…" piped up the blonde a bit shyly. "_You _were the one who the contactors gave the address to after all…"

"You ain't helping the situation, Mattie," said Lars sharply. However, he rubbed his head with one hand while the other stayed on the wheel. "Sheesh…what _was _I on? Was I really _that _high?"

"You couldn't remember our _names_!" snapped Lovino. "You called me Katarina and you called Mateo, Marguerite! You even called the both of us sexy at one point! Mateo even had to whack you with one of his hockey sticks to knock you out."

"Seriously?" Lars now had a blank expression creasing over his features. "Damn…that sounds like some whacked up shit I took…what the hell _did _I take?"

Lovino wrinkled his nose, "How the hell are we supposed to know that?"

"Lars, just keep driving," Matthew said, now exasperated. He desperately wanted to just go home now – this was becoming too much of a toll for his head to take. Personally, Matthew loved spending time with his two closest friends; however they _did _become quite a handful at various times. It certainly wasn't just during business where the Italian and the Dutchman drove the young Canadian man up the wall.

Lars and Lovino stopped their arguing and the trip became silent again. Both men knew better than to push Matthew's limits; things became extremely ugly if Matthew ever were to lose his temper.

Yes, things _would _get extremely ugly.

The car ride stretched on; however the silence was far from awkward. On the contrary, the silence was rather inviting.

Lovino was a lover of silence as were the two men with him, however he detested that feeling of awkwardness that settled in the air whenever he was stuck with somebody else beside him and in complete silence.

Admittedly, the silences were quite awkward between Lovino and the Dutchman and Canadian at first when they were assigned to work together. However as they began to work with each other more often, they inexplicably grew closer despite all of the squabbles and petty arguments they partook from time to time. They grew close to the point that even their superiors found it strange if the trio worked either separately or with other members of the group.

Lovino and Lars wouldn't admit it aloud (though Matthew would), but all three knew inside that they had grown past the stage of being just fellow workmates. No, the three of them shared a much stronger bond than that.

They were friends.

"We're here," Lars' voice announced, breaking Lovino away from his thoughts.

The Italian shook his head as Lars parked the car at an unfamiliar street nearby a school with a great field that was dappled with specks from the moon's light. The main school building looked to consist of red bricks and white pavement. Around the school, Lovino could see that there were all kinds of shops marring the streets with rather vibrant signs. Shops of all kind were surrounding him; restaurants, clothes stores, parlours…

"Isn't that the Duplex Mall?" Matthew asked with an arched eyebrow, pointing at a grand building that consisted of glass panes, windows and golden rods that provided as the backbone to keep it up.

Lars stared at the building and rubbed his head as they exited from the car. "You're fucking kidding me…" he grumbled. "We could've just taken the way near the damn fountain…"

"_Now _you stop being all high on your damn drugs," Lovino snorted as he pointedly glared at the said fountain.

Despite being rather irritated, Lovino found the fountain to be rather beautiful. It was made out of white marble that simply made it glow during the moon's gentle light. The water glinted and sparkled as well, adding a mystic feeling to it. The water gushed in a soft, yet strong noise as it continued spouting water in a rather beautiful formation that was curving upward in a semi-arch.

Lovino admired the fountain for a little while before coming back to business, "Okay, high bastard where are we supposed to meet the damn contactors again?"

Lars pointed at the fountain that the Italian was staring at. "Behind there," he responded. "In an alley just beyond the part of the fountain where you can face the beach."

The Italian glared, "You're messing with me now, are you?"

"I'm not playing," responded Lars tonelessly, though he looked rather annoyed. "The contactors wrote down everything and gave it to me. You're meeting behind the fucking fountain."

"That's not far from your house, you bastard!" snapped Lovino. "We wasted a _shit _load of time to get here just because you were high on a piece of shit!"

Matthew cleared his throat before another argument could ensue between the two older men and risk causing another raucous. "Guys," the Canadian said. "Please, just give it a rest – I really want some sleep as much as you guys. Lovino, can't you just check if they're there, yet? Then we can go home."

Lovino gave a snort as he rolled his eyes, "Che…fine! You and high bastard stay here and I'll go check behind the fucking fountain in some _totally _safe alleyway."

Lars flipped him off as he pulled a cigarette from a small packet in the pocket of his brown coat. Matthew sighed as he leaned back on the car, gazing up at the moon with a rather dreamy expression on his face.

"What are you thinking about there, Mattie?" Lars asked nonchalantly as he took out a light from his other pocket, cigarette now in his mouth.

Matthew gave a start, brought back to earth as he stared at the Dutchman, pale face slightly flushed, "O-oh! Nothing…it was nothing…"

Lars smirked, "Usually when somebody says something like that, it _always _means something." As soon as the end of his cigarette lit up, the Dutchman took a great heave and exhaled, emitting rings of grey smoke from his mouth. He took the cigarette out of his mouth momentarily and quirked an eyebrow at the Canadian, "It's about your Ukrainian girlfriend, isn't it? Katyusha was her name?"

Matthew's face grew an unhealthier shade of red, "Y-you…you could tell?"

The Dutchman rolled his eyes, "_No_…_no_, you were hiding it so damn well!"

Matthew scowled at the sarcastic reply but decided not to retort and instead responded, "Yes. It's about Katyusha…"

"Well, what about Mrs. Williams?"

"Lars!" Matthew gasped. "Katyusha and I are not married!"

"I know you want her to be, though. To be married to you," Lars took another heave from his cigarette after tapping away some ashes from the butt. He exhaled more cloudy ringlets as he smirked at the Canadian, "She's been your girlfriend for _five_ freaking years already. I would propose to her soon, if I were you – she's a cool woman. After all, she's fine about you being in a group such as ours and all…"

"That's the thing," sighed Matthew. "Though I'm glad that she accepts this now, I'm just…just so worried that I might be endangering her…"

"What?" Lars stopped for a moment and stared at the Canadian man. "Is that it? Really?"

"Y-yeah," Matthew responded miserably. "I think I might be putting her in danger – maybe I should just break it off with her…"

"Don't break off with her," replied Lars as he gave another drag on his cigarette. "She's a wonderful woman. Sure she cries easily and shit, but she has a big heart on her. Almost as big as her breasts. She knew what she was gonna be involved in with having a gang member as her boyfriend and obviously, since she's okay with it, then she knows the risks. She loves you, man. This one is a rarity; don't let her go…"

Matthew stared at the Dutchman in stunned silence from his words. Lars was the eldest out of the three of them at age twenty-nine, almost approaching the big three-o and about to exit the prime years of adulthood. Lovino was in the middle at age twenty-seven, still in the prime of his life. Matthew was the youngest at age twenty-four, and obviously still had several more years in the blossoming stage of adulthood.

The Canadian man nodded as Lars' piece of advice sunk in. He smiled, "Yeah, thanks Lars."

Lars shrugged as he tapped his cigarette again, eyes now fixed upon a bookstore nearby. The Dutchman tilted his head and shrugged in response, "Yeah, don't mention it…"

The only noise still being the fountain, Lovino carefully peered around the fountain and saw the alleyway, which cast a dark shadow on the (at first) peaceful visage of the night. The Italian's brows furrowed down to a frown as he squinted, trying to see if there was anybody there at all waiting. Seeing and hearing no signs of movement, Lovino took a bold step forward and this time, set foot in the alleyway, a hand now slowly brushing against a smooth, metal surface inside his pocket.

The Italian glanced around as his hands now gripped onto the object in his coat pocket. He narrowed his eyes as he strained his ears, listening for any sudden movements.

A scratching noise pierced his thoughts.

Lovino then whipped out the object, revealing it to be a pistol, whose silver surface glinted menacingly under the moon's rays. The Italian's eyes darted towards the dumpster a few paces behind him. Lovino licked his lips, heart pounding in his chest as he took a cautious step towards the massive heap of garbage.

He forced himself to calm down as he came closer and closer to the dumpster. Eventually, the scratching noise grew louder and there was now rustling from within, as if something was moving from inside of the dumpster.

Lovino cocked his gun, ready to fire. He peered inside, his gun still poised at the ready when a loud mewling reached his ears.

"What the hell?" the Italian lowered his gun and removed a bag full of garbage, carelessly tossing it away…

…only to reveal a dark brown cat with a fishbone in its mouth.

Lovino stared down at the cat in disbelief; this was what caused him to get so riled up? The Italian glared head-on with the animal and spat, "Yeah? What the hell are _you _looking at, bastard?"

The cat's response was to simply stare back at him. It eventually ran away, fishbone still present in its mouth.

"Stupid cat," Lovino grumbled as he concluded that there was absolutely nothing in the alleyway. The Italian was frustrated; Lars had gained the information from the contactors! They were _supposed _to meet at the rendezvous point in regards to their deal with some recently smuggled weapons.

Here was Lovino at the rendezvous point, but where the hell were those damn bastards they were supposed to meet?

Swearing in rapid Italian, Lovino kicked the dumpster in frustration but howled soon after as pain split his toe.

Eventually, he hobbled his way back to the car to report the bad news, only for find that Matthew was gazing at the fountain alone.

"Where the hell is Lars?" demanded Lovino, getting even more irritated.

Matthew gave the Italian a weak smile, "He said you were taking too long after he finished taking a drag on his cigarette, he went in there." The Canadian man pointed at a bookstore nearby.

Lovino stared at his younger companion then at the bookstore incredulously, "Are you fucking _kidding _me?!" he screamed. "What the hell is he even gonna do there?! You know what?! I don't give a fuck! Chigi! It's _his _fucking fault in the first place! There was nobody in the damn alleyway!"

"Really?" Matthew looked shocked. "Nobody was there?" seeing Lovino shake his head, the Canadian man rubbed his head, "But we were supposed to meet there – that was our rendezvous point! Now what are we going to do? What will the boss say about this?"

"Make Lars report to the boss," snapped Lovino as he leaned back on the car beside Matthew. "It's _his _fucking fault! All of this! Bastard was probably too high to realize something was wrong…"

Meanwhile, in the bookstore, Lars was calmly inspecting shelves upon shelves of books of many kinds. There were some about cooking, some about horror stories, some about magic, some about countries, some about world history…

None of those interested the Dutchman in one bit, though.

What _did _interest Lars however was the next array of shelves that were near the back.

Adult romance novels.

It was a trait of his that Lovino found hilarious and Matthew quite cute, but Lars was, in reality, a romantic at heart and indulged in reading books of the very genre during his spare time. Lars himself didn't really give a damn about anyone else's opinion about his reading preferences and stayed in his own genre, immersing himself with stories that spoke of loves of any kind.

Tragedies, comedies, something more steamy, drama…

Lars' eyes travelled upon a book with a dark cover and a white tie at the front. It was sitting on the most popular stand of the book's section. He read the back of it and arched an eyebrow after reading the blurb. "Fifty shades of…" he snorted. "What bland bullshit." He carelessly tossed the book back onto its stand and inspected the other four books that were on the stand.

After finally reading the blurb of the last book on the most popular pick stand, the Dutchman gave an exasperated sigh, "Where's the good shit? When a plot actually _makes _me wanna buy the damn book and read it!"

"_A-ano…_excuse me…" a timid voice softly spoke up.

Lars turned around and gazed down, noticing a short, shy-looking Japanese man with black hair, dull brown eyes and wearing a navy blue kimono. "What?" the Dutchman asked rather bluntly.

"I couldn't help but notice you being disgruntled at the most popular choices," the Japanese man said. "Honestly, I am rather displeased myself; I never liked that book, either."

Lars couldn't help but feel slightly amused by the shorter man's accent. It was an Engrish one where instead of an _'l'_; an _'r'_ took its place. The Dutchman shrugged, "Well…what do _you _suggest?"

The Japanese man had a twinkle in his eye at being asked his opinion. He then gestured Lars to a shelf where it was a bit further away from the front and considerately more back. The Dutchman noticed that the books here were a bit dustier than the ones at the front. Feeling a bit uncomfortable from the state of the books, Lars asked, "Why are the books like this?"

"Because they are never looked at," responded the Japanese man sadly. "While everyone goes to the front and just pick what's there because it is the most new thing to read, nobody comes back here to inspect what lies further…"

"I see," Lars nodded. "What do you suggest again?"

The Japanese man inspected the shelves and finally pulled out a book with a hard, red cover and in neat, golden font, letters spelled out the title.

"'_The Soldier'_?" Lars asked, arching an eyebrow as he took the book from the Japanese man. "Hmm…" he flipped the book around and read the blurb. Several seconds later, the Dutchman raised his head and asked in a low voice, "How much is it?"

The Japanese man gave a small smile, "Not much; it will cost you fifteen dollars."

"Seriously?" Lars looked incredulous. "And the shit at the front is worth _twice _the amount of this? Damn…"

The Japanese man gave a small chuckle as he took the crisp bills from the Dutchman at the counter, "I know how you feel there. It is a shame that these days, nobody pays attention to more wonderful stories around. I hope you enjoy that book; I guarantee that it is a wonderful read."

"I'll take your word for it," Lars said nonchalantly as he held the book tightly and waved off an offer for a bag. "Later, uh…"

"Kiku," the Japanese man responded. "My name is Kiku."

The Dutchman nodded, "Thanks again, Kiku. The name's Lars. Later…"

As soon as Lovino caught sight of his older companion exiting the bookstore, he flew into a fit of rage. "What the hell is _wrong _with you, you damn bastard?!" demanded the Italian. "You went into a fucking bookstore for how long while you kept us waiting!"

"Why the hell were you waiting?" Lars asked tonelessly. "I didn't think it'd take you _that _long to meet the contactors…"

"_Che palle_, don't play dumb with me!" snapped Lovino. "There was nobody there!"

"Wait…what?" Lars looked confused as he pulled out the piece of paper from before. He showed it to his younger friends, "It says right here that they were gonna meet right here…"

Matthew peered at the piece of paper. He then sighed, "Lars, the date says that we're supposed to meet them on the twenty-first…"

"And…?"

Lovino's face grew red, "Today's the fucking twentieth, you dumbass!"

Lars' face grew blank. He checked the date again and tried racking his brain as to what the date today was. "So it is," he murmured. "My mistake…"

"_Vaffanculo_!" shrieked Lovino. "You wasted our time for fucking nothing! Nothing but a stupid book!"

"I must've been _really _high," Lars mumbled to himself, totally ignoring Lovino. He opened the driver's door and entered the car. "Wonder what the hell I was on at the time…hmm…could I get more of it?"

"Oh, Lars…" Matthew sighed as he entered the car himself.

Lovino spat at the ground, understandably frustrated. He entered the car and closed it with a loud slam, causing Matthew to flinch and for Lars to pointedly glare at him. The Italian flipped him off as the Dutchman started the engine, prompting the car to drive away.

'_Damn him!' _Lovino angrily thought to himself as he ran a hand through his dark brown locks of hair, careful to avoid a curl that stuck out on his right. _'I can't believe this! What the hell _was _this bastard on at the time to make him act like a complete retard?!'_

Giving a huff, Lovino leaned back in his seat, patting the pocket of his coat where his pistol still lay in comfort. He shut his amber eyes as Lars then turned on the radio where some rather soothing music started playing, equaling heaven to his ears.

The car's engine continued to hum as it drove straight ahead in the now peaceful night.

* * *

_And there you have it; the prologue comes to a close. Because I was shot forth from inspiration, I also added the first chapter, which involves Antonio. Canada x Ukraine is also an official couple in this story._

_Thoughts and opinions, guys? Have a nice day! :DDD_


	2. Antonio

_Hello to you guys, again. It's just me - HetaWriter/HetaReader here. As I promised in the previous chapter (the prologue), here's the chapter which introduces Antonio._

_Again, if anybody's wondering - Antonio's in high school while Lovino isn't. Now, I hope you enjoy the chapter!_

_**Disclaimer: **I do NOT own Hetalia.  
_

* * *

An alarm loudly blared, causing a groan to emit from a tanned boy who laid face-down in bed. The beeping continued until finally, a hand reached out and slammed down on the button that caused the damn thing to shut down.

Rolling back in the bed, the boy snuggled closer to his pillow amongst red and yellow sheets. He murmured softly as he thought that peace and quiet would finally return and allow him to go back into sweet sleep.

"Antonio!" a voice called sharply. "Get your damn ass up, Antonio!"

Antonio gave a moan as he placed his pillow over his head. He whined, "Come on, five more minutes! I want five more minutes!"

"Why do you have to be such a jerk all the time?!" snapped the voice from the other side of the door. There was the loud banging of a fist bamming on the door's white and wooden surface as the voice called again, "Open this damn door right this instant! You're going to get up whether you like it or not, Antonio! Open up! Let me in!"

"Go away!" whined Antonio as he pressed his pillow closer to his ears. "Leave me alone, Joao! I wanna take a siesta!"

"You'll be late for fucking school!"

"But it's only six-thirty…"

"No it's not, you idiot!" Joao's voice spat. "It's eight-thirty!"

"Wait…_qué_?!" Antonio perked up in bed. He stared at his alarm clock and banged one of his fists down on it. Immediately, the six in the hour segment suddenly shot up, revealing an eight instead. "_Mierda_!"

Hopping out of bed, Antonio quickly gathered a clean set of clothes and swung the door right open, banging it right into Joao's nose.

"_Ay_!" yelped Joao. The man glared after the Spaniard who was now making a beeline to the bathroom. "_Te odio!_"

"_Lo siento_, _mi hermano_!" Antonio apologized quickly as he swiftly discarded his clothes and hopped into the shower. The cold water soothing his warm body and waking him up a bit more. Once he was done, the Spaniard quickly dried off on a towel, put on his clothes, brushed his teeth and rushed downstairs. "_Buenos dias_, mama!"

"_Buenos dias_, Antonio," his mother smiled, though she looked noticeably exhausted. Before she could say anything else however, Antonio suddenly grabbed a piece of toast, quickly applied some butter onto it. "Antonio! That won't be enough to satisfy breakfast!" his mother exclaimed.

"I'll be fine, mama, don't worry!" Antonio insisted as he grabbed his bag and, after having the piece of buttered toast dangling from his mouth, slipped his sneakers on and was about to bust out of the door when Joao stopped him.

"Not so fast, loser," Joao said looked annoyed. "You almost forgot your lunch…"

"Oh!" Antonio flashed the man a bright beam as he took the brown, paper bag from him. "_Muchas gracias_, _mi hermano_!"

Joao snorted as he joined their mother at the table, "Whatever…"

Antonio immediately started running as fast as his legs could carry him towards his school. Hopefully, he could arrive there before the bell for home room would ring and avoid Mr. Wang's wrath.

Mr. Wang was not only Antonio's home room teacher, but also his math teacher. Mr. Wang didn't like tardiness at all and was known to hit students with his ruler at times if they ever misbehaved.

Antonio certainly didn't want to face Mr. Wang's ruler early in the morning.

Hearing the bell ring, the Spaniard quickly leapt over a hedge and into the school where people were starting to make their way to classes. Antonio sighed in relief when he finally burst into his home room. He plopped down in one desk and placed a hand over his chest, panting quite hard.

"_Mon ami_, why are you so breathless?"

Antonio beamed, not needing to look up at the person who spoke to him. "_Buenos dias_, Francis," he greeted.

A Frenchman with wavy, blonde hair that was tied into a high ponytail returned the Spaniard's beam with a smile himself. His blue eyes sparkling in amusement at his friend who looked as if he ran over three laps around the field. "Had a rather nice night last night, _mon ami_?" he gave a chuckle. "Ohonhonhon…"

"Nice night?" Antonio asked innocently, now facing the Frenchman with curious, emerald green eyes. "Not really; Joao was pissed off at me last night…"

"Ahh, Joao?" Francis picked a seat on Antonio's right. "And why was _monsieur _Joao in such a foul mood towards you, _mon ami_?"

Antonio shrugged, a frown now creasing his usually cheery features, "He was yelling at me to get to bed. I wasn't even sleepy – it was only nine-thirty! I told him I didn't want to go to bed and he got angry…"

"He didn't…_hit _you, did he?"

Antonio shook his head, "No…he looked close to, but he eventually called me something bad and went upstairs to his room."

"Something bad?" Francis frowned at his Spanish friend. "What did he call you?"

Antonio shrugged one shoulder, "He just called me a bastard; nothing out of the ordinary, really…"

Francis nodded, but still couldn't help but feel worried towards the Spaniard. "I see, but still, it isn't good for your brother to treat you like that," he said quietly.

Antonio nodded in response, "I understand what you're saying, Francis, but Joao is getting so worked up from…well…work! Everything's been going under the weather with him lately; it's like nothing's going right for him."

"Really?" Francis leaned closer. "Tell me more, _Antoine_."

"Well…" Antonio scratched his head. "From what I heard when he cursed on the phone, his boss didn't give him the raise and instead gave it to some lazy guy. Then he was complaining about his friend getting drunk and throwing up on the back seat of his car. And finally, I caught him drinking wine as he was mumbling to himself about Miranda."

"Ahh, your brother's girlfriend?" Francis gave a small, sad smile. "What did he say about _mademoiselle_ Miranda?"

"I couldn't really tell," Antonio's face scrunched up as he tried to recall what the man had said before. "But he was saying stuff about her making unreasonable demands…"

Francis sighed, "_Sacré bleu_…it sounds like your brother is going through a rather difficult time, no? I feel sorry for him, actually…"

Antonio heaved a sigh himself as Mr. Wang entered the room. Mr. Wang was a Chinese man with dark hair, which was tied into a low ponytail, and he had brown eyes. Mr. Wang usually wore garments that consisted of his home country, to which he was very proud of, but the sleeves were sometimes a bit _too _large on him.

The Chinese teacher didn't seem to mind though.

"Alright, alright! Settle down, aru!" called Mr. Wang as he picked up the roll. "Now, let's see…" he started marking off their names. Upon hearing his name, Francis called, "_Oui_, I am here."

"Good," Mr. Wang checked Francis name off the list. "Gilbert!" hearing no response, the Chinese man looked around. "Gilbert? Where is that…do you both know where Gilbert is, aru?" he asked, looking pointedly at Francis and Antonio. Seeing the two boys shrug, Mr. Wang gave an exasperated sigh as he added a cross to Gilbert's name on the list.

"Where do you think Gilbert is, _mi amigo_?" Antonio questioned Francis when the first bell, which signaled first period rang.

Francis shrugged, "Ah…I do not know. But you and I _do _know that Gilbert chooses to come to school when he wants. He does things his own way."

Antonio chuckled, "_Si_, that's true!"

"Well," Francis tilted his head in direction to a classroom. "I must be going now – I have Biology right now."

"Ah, I see," Antonio said, feeling a bit disappointed at going separate ways with one of his best friends. He jerked a thumb in the opposite direction, "I have English right now. Gilbert was supposed to be in class with me."

"That is a shame," sighed Francis. "I wish I could join you, but Biology awaits for me. _Au revoir_, _Antoine_. Have fun in English."

"Yeah…" Antonio said sadly. "I'll try…"

English was a subject that Antonio didn't enjoy much; it was one of his worst subjects. He couldn't understand the context of the stories that he was assigned to and whenever he had an essay or creative writing piece to do, the Spaniard couldn't place his words correctly on paper and they twisted in his mind.

As soon as he entered the room, Antonio saw a blonde, British boy with a thick pair of eyebrows, wearing smart clothing, and green eyes that rivaled his own. The Spaniard narrowed his eyes, "_Arturo_…"

The boy narrowed his eyes as he glanced sideways at the Spaniard. "_Anthony_," he said curtly.

Antonio and Arthur were rivals from a rather young age. It all started when the British boy had sunken the Spaniard's toy boat in a puddle when they were both in the second grade. Ever since, the two were at it worse than cats and dogs, though in public, they tried to keep a calm disposition so as not to involve anyone or make a huge fuss.

Arthur was one of the smartest students at school and was also the student council's president. He was very well organized, but he was very strict and grouchy.

"Where's your hooligan friend?" Arthur asked with a scowl.

Antonio responded with a glare, "Gilbert's not here."

"How tardy," Arthur gave a snort as he took out his notebook. "Then again, I didn't expect any less from that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded Antonio, his green eyes aflame. He glowered at the British boy, whose own green eyes were now catching fire.

Before either could have a go at each other, the door opened and more students filed into the room, putting their venomous exchange on hold. The lesson finally settled into the part where the students were now reading to themselves and tried to understand the context of as to what was going on, when the door suddenly swung open.

The figure who opened it was revealed to be a student with pale hair, red eyes and with his bag slung over his shoulder. He smirked to the entire class and teacher, "The King of Awesomeness is here! What's up, bitches?"

"Gilbert!" Antonio happily exclaimed. "_Mi amigo_, you're here!"

"Mr. Beilschmidt!" the teacher spoke in an offended tone. "Watch your language! Why are you so late to class?"

Gilbert smirked as he threw his late note, which was now in the form of a paper airplane. "I was busy not giving a damn," he said simply as he made his way to the empty seat beside Antonio. "Until I remembered I had English first up with Toni; he'd be bored stiff without the awesome me as company."

Antonio couldn't help but giggle as Gilbert completely disregarded the teacher's face growing redder and redder by the passing second. The albino student however raised his feet and placed them on the desk as he leaned back, resting his arms behind his head.

"So, what's up, anyway?"

By the time lunch came, Antonio and Gilbert met Francis outside under the shade of a great tree. The Frenchman waved at the pair and laughed, "So, _monsieur _Gilbert decided to show up to school after all…"

"_Ja_, of course!" Gilbert slung an arm around Antonio's shoulder. "If I didn't come – Toni would be born shitless! So, like any awesome friend, I came to keep him company!"

Francis nodded, "I see then. How _noble _of you, _mon ami_."

"Francis, how was your day so far?" Antonio asked the blonde.

"Just the typical with me," Francis responded.

"So pretty much it's just you flirting with whatever has legs, doing Biology where you learn about the reproductive system and maybe copping a few feels, huh?" Gilbert looked bored. "Your days are _always _the same, Francy-pants. So not awesome…"

"Oh really, then?" Francis looked annoyed. "Then what is _your _idea of an awesome day, may I ask?"

"Not being here," Gilbert smirked as he then pulled Antonio towards the fence. "Come on, I'm busting us out!"

"H-huh?" Antonio looked a bit surprised. "But Gilbert…_mi amigo_, we're supposed to stay in school…"

"You're becoming _way _too much of a nice guy now, Toni," Gilbert said, looking a bit disgruntled. "Not saying that's a bad thing, but come on! You gotta live, man! Live your life out there and experience what it's like!"

"We _will _get in trouble, _mon ami_," Francis looked more bored than worried, unlike a certain Spaniard.

Gilbert shrugged, "So what? Just put the blame on me – not like I care about getting another detention or suspension or so…"

"_Pero_…" Antonio's eyes widened at this point. "What if you get _expelled_?"

Gilbert gazed at his Spanish friend, ruby red bearing into emerald green. "And…?" he asked, not seeing a problem.

Francis arched an eyebrow, "You do not care if you get expelled?"

"_Nein,_" Gilbert shook his head. "This place sucks balls, anyway. I'd be _thrilled _to get the hell outta here!"

"But Gilbert~!" whined Antonio. "What about us? Doesn't that mean you won't miss us at all?"

Gilbert gave an odd laugh, "Kesesese! What the hell are you talking about? That's the only thing I'd miss about this damn place! Besides, I wouldn't be missing you guys so much since we hang around a lot, anyway."

Antonio smiled again, "_Si_, you do have a point."

"So, how about it? Let's go jig for lunch! I know an awesome place that serves the _best _pancakes I've ever eaten!"

And so here it was, Antonio found himself being dragged out of school by his best friend Gilbert while his other best friend Francis was calmly walking beside the pair of them. Eventually, when he felt much more comfortable about not being in school for the past several minutes or so, Antonio was able to be released from Gilbert's hold and began skipping forward, the bouncy cheer returning to his step, much to the amusement of his friends.

"Looks like _Antoine _is back to his usual self," Francis laughed as Antonio bounded forward like a child in a playground. "Be careful, _mon ami _– you might bump into something."

"Eh, leave him alone Francy-pants," spoke up Gilbert. "It's his first time jigging – let him enjoy it. It gives you an awesome feeling, after all."

Antonio marveled at the places around him; most of these shops he had never been at before and now, thanks to Gilbert, he could look around with no problem. He curiously peered around at the signs and wondered just where was the place that his albino friend wanted to bring them to for lunch. He turned around, facing them, "Gilbert~!" he called.

"_Ja_?" Gilbert asked, stopping in his tracks.

"Where's the place that serves the best pancakes?" Antonio asked innocently. "What's it called?"

"Oh…the _Maple Kimchi_," responded Gilbert.

Francis wrinkled his nose at the name, "Maple _Kimchi_? That would _not _make a good combination for a meal! Mark my words!"

"What's Kimchi?" inquired Antonio.

"It's a Korean dish, _Antoine_," responded Francis gently. "It consists of radish and other sorts of ingredients."

"What's maple syrup?"

"Kinda like honey," this time, it was Gilbert's turn to respond. "Only a whole lot of times _awesomer_."

"Oh…well, I'd still like to eat my own lunch, too!" Antonio took out the brown paper bag and peered into it. He licked his lips upon viewing a plastic container, which held some paella and two tomatoes that were still in a perfect ripened condition. "But I'd like to try the food at this place of yours, too!"

Gilbert cackled, "Eat what you want, Toni! You always had a big stomach!"

"Is that it?" Antonio pointed at a diner made of red bricks with a black tin roof overhead. Seeing Gilbert whoop in agreement, the Spaniard cheered as he called to his friends, "Francis! Gilbert! I'll race you there, _mi amigos_! Ready? _Uno_, _dos_, _trés_…go!"

"_Mon dieu_! Wait a moment, _Antoine_!" Francis shouted after him in alarm, seeing him speed off ahead like a bullet. "_Antoine_! You might get yourself hurt!"

"What are you taking about, Francis?" Antonio asked as he skidded to a halt. He blinked and flashed another sunlit grin, "I'll be just fine! I mean, come on!" he jerked a thumb at himself. "You _are _talking to the captain of the soccer team, after all!"

"He's got you there, Francy-pants," smirked Gilbert as Francis gave a huff.

The Frenchman shook his head, "Still, it does not hurt to be careful and pay attention to your surroundings, am I right, _mon ami_?"

Antonio shrugged as he started to run again, "Come on, Francis! I'll be just fine-!"

No sooner had the words tumbled out from Antonio's lips when he turned around and immediately bumped into something. The Spaniard was so taken aback and caught off guard that he stumbled backward and fell onto his butt. Gilbert and Francis hurriedly ran forward to check if their friend was okay.

"_Antoine_!" Francis shook his head. "I warned you…"

"You alright there, Toni?" Gilbert asked, genuinely concerned for once.

Antonio could only stare at the man he bumped into and who caused him to fall over.

The man was glaring at him with piercing amber eyes, some of his dark brown bangs falling over one of them. A strange curl protruded from his right side and his skin was of olive complexion. He was also on the ground on his own bottom, probably also taken off guard from Antonio's mad dash to the diner.

Accompanying the man were two others – one was tall with a sharp face, stern eyes and a cigarette in his mouth as well as an open book before him, while the other looked softer and younger with violet eyes from behind clear glasses.

The tall man glared at the three students before him before turning his attention to the man on the ground. "You okay there, Lovino?" he asked in a low, gruff voice.

"Lovino…" Antonio murmured, the name pleasantly rolling on his tongue.

"What the fuck are you staring at, you bastard?" Lovino demanded, not liking how the Spaniard was staring at him. "Seriously, quit that! Quit it or tell me what the fuck your stupid face is looking at."

"Your face…"

"What about my face, _idiota_?"

"It looks just like a tomato!"

"What the fuck?!"

"A big, red and ripe tomato! _Si_! You look so much like a tomato! It's so, _so _cute!"

"CHIGIIIIIIIII!"

* * *

_I will probably get shot for adding the last bit in the ending - I couldn't help myself (grabs chibi!Lithuania's shield that he used against chibi!Prussia when he threw acorns at him). I got a shield motha fu-! Haha...sorry_...

_I'm not sure when the next chapter will stem up - but hopefully it's soon before I gain writer's block on this one as well. What Lays Beneath is also being planned on, and will probably released in November sometime._

_Thoughts and opinions? Have a nice day! :DDD_


	3. Post-Interaction

_Hello guys, HetaWriter/HetaReader - it took me a while to finally type up this chapter, but had other things to attend to. As I mentioned in Truffles and a Hammer, I probably won't be able to update from the end of this week until in early November due to going overseas. For that, I apologize._

_Anyway, thanks go to **Karhien**, **MaliceArchangela** and **Flor x De x Amor** for the follows! Big thanks also go to those who reviewed.**  
**_

_**H. Tagi: **Why shouldn't I mention you? You've been very kind to me in all of your reviews in all of my stories, and I greatly appreciate that. ...Dou itashimashite! *bows* I honestly don't know where I got the idea of the title alluding to Lars' book. Yeah, I notice in plenty of Spamano fics, Antonio is the seme, so when my sister asked if I would ever write a Spamano fic (she's a big Spamano fangirl), I told her about my plans for The Soldier and she liked the idea. It's just that it becomes common place of Antonio to be in the upper hand, it makes me wonder sometimes about how Lovino could possibly be portrayed if he were the upper hand. I'll wait for you to review, then! Out of curiosity, why can't you get an account here anyway?  
_

_**kit-kat93: **Thanks for the compliment! Yes, Lars was really high on something, the problem is - nobody knows exactly what it was. Yes, I actually was inspired to write that scene from the Russia and Belarus bit in Hetalia - awesome that you noticed! Yeah, I felt that way too - I mean Spamano is nice at times, but sometimes it can become a repetitive procedure, so I decided to try and turn the whole concept upside down by making Antonio the young uke and Lovino the older seme.  
_

_**herpy derpy mojo:** You like it, huh? Thanks! I wonder, what do you like about it?  
_

_**Disclaimer:** I do NOT own Hetalia._

_Continue on..._

* * *

"A tomato?" Lars arched his eyebrow, book now lowered. "Seriously?"

Gilbert was cracking up as well, unable to contain his laughter. He doubled over and clutched one knee while he banged at his thigh with the other. "Are you freaking _serious_, Toni?!" he chortled. "Kesesese! You're comparing thisguy to a _vegetable_?"

"I thought tomatoes were a fruit, _mon ami_," Francis said as he rubbed his head, feeling quite embarrassed right now; the three men they were encountering right now were very handsome and here he and his friends were – looking like completely ruffled and immature kids.

Way to be smooth…

"Actually, I thought they were fruits, too," spoke up Matthew as he gave a soft smile. "My little brother always gets told off whenever he keeps calling them vegetables…"

"Are we seriously gonna have a discussion about this crap?" Gilbert then asked, recovering from his laughter. He groaned, "Seriously! Who gives a damn whether it's a fruit or a vegetable?"

"Gilbert's right!" Antonio chirped. "It doesn't matter whether a _tomate_ is a fruit or a vegetable, as long as they are delicious then it shouldn't matter, right~?"

"Shut up!" Lovino shrieked, suddenly startling everyone. "Seriously, _everyone _just shut up! You're all giving me a fucking migraine!" he picked himself off the ground, brushed some dust away from his polo shirt and stabbed a finger in Antonio's direction. The digit was only just a centimeter or two away from Antonio's nose. "Next time, watch where the hell you're going, you dumbass!"

Antonio wasn't really paying attention to the man's words. Instead, he found himself at first, staring cross-eyed at Lovino's finger, then his eyes wandered up to the man's eyes. Pretty soon, the Spaniard couldn't help but gaze into those orbs.

Despite their ferocity and the huge blaze that burned from within them, Antonio couldn't help but admire the great light that shone from inside. The colour of the man's eyes truly were a lovely shade of amber – many hues of tawny embedded against yellow-brown of different tones and tints…

"Let's go already; we have business to fucking attend to."

Antonio was snapped back into the present when he saw that the man, Lovino, was now walking away with his head held high in the air. The tall and mean looking blonde had his nose buried back into his book.

"They better be there this time," Antonio heard Lovino seethe. "Or I swear…I _will_ strangle a bastard!"

"Lovino," Matthew said softly. "Please, calm down…"

Antonio gave a start when he realized that there was another man (Matthew) standing beside Lovino. He was blonde, too!

'_Ay Dios mio, he scared me!_' the Spaniard thought to himself. _'When did he even get there?'_

"Toni? Earth to Toni?" Gilbert continuously snapped his fingers right before the Spaniard's eyes. "Oi! Earth to Toni! Hey!"

"Huh?" Antonio shook his head and blinked up at his friends. "_Qué_?"

"Are you gonna get up from your ass already, man?" Gilbert teased. "Or are you comfy there?"

"Actually," Antonio rubbed his backside, wincing slightly. "It's not comfortable at all…" he gratefully took a hand each from both of his friends and pulled himself up.

"Are you alright, _mon ami_?" Francis questioned in genuine concern. "You're not hurt, are you?"

Antonio shook his head, waving a dismissive hand with a smile, "No, I'm fine! Really, I am. _Muchas gracias _for asking, though."

"That was a rather…_interesting_ encounter," Francis noted in regards to the three men they had all encountered, his gaze falling onto them. "Intriguing characters, are they not?"

Antonio followed Francis' eyes and saw that the three men were boarding a sleek black car that looked slightly worn as the hood had fading paint, but by the looks of it, the car still seemed sturdy and strong. The tall man with the book entered the driver's seat while Lovino and the bespectacled blonde entered from opposite sides. The Spaniard's eyes settled onto the brunette man yet again.

Lovino paused for a moment as he could feel eyes settling onto him. His amber orbs darting carefully to the side, he saw who was staring.

'_Just that dumbass bastard,'_ the Italian thought to himself as he glared at Antonio. The student didn't seem all that intimidated by his piercing stare however, and instead blinked and gazed right at him. Lovino bristled in anger – how dare that kid stare at him like that! Who the hell did he think he was?

He flipped him off before boarding the car.

Seeing the vehicle speed away, Antonio kept his gaze onto the Italian man who leaned back in the back passenger's seat. Once the car was out of sight, the Spaniard still stared at that very direction that the car had been moments prior. He couldn't tear his eyes away.

Until he felt a pinch on his cheek.

"_Ay_!" he yelped, crashing back into the present. He whipped around and saw that Gilbert was pulling at his cheek, attempting to stretch it. "Gilbert~!" Antonio whined. "What was that for? _Ay Dios mio_, that really hurt!"

"You're spacing out again!" snorted Gilbert. "Come on, already! I want my freaking pancakes now! And some maple syrup."

"Oh…oh yeah!" the encounter with the three men caused Antonio to forget why he was out here in the first place. He beamed brightly as he pointed at the diner, "Shall we, _mi amigos_?"

Francis nodded, glad that the Spaniard was cheery again, but inside, he was pondering on why Antonio was acting so spacey all of a sudden. Gilbert simply laughed and patted Antonio's head, "_Ja_, let's go!"

* * *

As the car continued driving down the streets and curving left and right various times, Matthew felt a bit uncomfortable. With a seat separating the both of them, Lovino looked like he was fuming.

"Lovino…" the Canadian man began softly, only to be cut off rather sharply.

"What? What the hell is it, _Mateo_?"

"Lovino…" Matthew paused, but continued shortly afterward. "Lovino, are you alright?"

The Italian gave a snort, "Che…I'm fucking fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

Lars glanced up at his rear view mirror peering at Lovino. The Dutchman inquired, "It's got nothing to do with that dopey looking kid you bumped into is it?"

"What?! Fuck no!" snapped Lovino, his amber eyes aflame and his face slightly flushed. "It's got nothing to do with that dumbass brat!"

"Really now?" questioned Lars coolly. "Then explain your bitchy tone, sudden mood swing and your face becoming red."

"I-! Well-! I-!" Lovino stammered, not knowing a proper comeback to retort to that. Instead he snapped, "Fuck you! Yes! It's about that stupid kid – little bastard won't stop staring at me the whole time! I _hate_ that!"

"So what if he stared at you?" asked Lars as he casually turned the wheel. "Ain't a crime to stare at someone with weird ass googly eyes…"

"_You'd _think it'd be a fucking crime if someone stared at Emma…"

To this, the car suddenly stopped dead in its tracks with a loud screech as Lars hit the brakes. Matthew and Lovino both yelped as they were thrown slightly forward; both were extremely glad they were wearing seatbelts, otherwise things would've gone much worse…

"What the hell was that for, high bastard?" demanded Lovino. "Seriously, what the hell _was_ that?"

Lars leaned over from the driver's seat; his green eyes were now a roaring blaze as he glared right at the Italian. "_Never _bring up my little sister in any of this, and most definitely _never _compare her to a high school boy, either…" he said; his voice deadly quiet and absolutely chilling. "Compare her to that son of a bitch you clumsily bumped into again, and you're dead meat, Vargas…"

Lovino trembled in his seat – Lars was usually a relaxed and somber person, however if his buttons were pushed, he had a look similar to that of their boss.

He would look absolutely murderous.

"Got it?"

"Y-yeah, yeah…I won't compare your precious baby sister to that dumbass again," Lovino said, trying to keep his voice even. "I won't."

"Good," said Lars as he turned his eyes back onto the road. "Then we're understood…" he started the car again and once more, they were on their way.

Matthew heaved a sigh as he rubbed his temples and peered through the window at the rushing streets.

The car ride soon became rather awkward and silent after Lovino's slip-up. Lars maintained a hard face as he continued driving, eyes fixed onto the road. Lovino meanwhile was still red in the face, though it was obvious to see that his pride had somewhat been bruised a little. Matthew began to feel uneasy with the tense air hovering around and questioned, "Lars, are we almost there?"

"Yeah," said the Dutchman smoothly. "Almost to see the boss…"

"Good…" grumbled Lovino. He turned his gaze to the window and began peering through it. Right now, the car was passing by what appeared to be a school. A primary school filled with children who were eagerly running around the playground, screaming.

Lovino slightly tilted his head as he was able to catch sight of a little child who was hiding behind an older one, possible the child's older brother. A group of boys ran away from the older child just as that one older child kneeled down slightly to check the little boy.

Just before the car fully passed the school, Lovino caught sight of a teacher coming towards them.

'_That really sucks,'_ the Italian thought to himself as he turned his gaze back to the front. In his mind, a fond memory played there like a roll of film in a cinema.

He was driving to the primary school down the road from his house where his little brother attended. His mother was busy with work, his cousin had gone out to God knows where, and his grandfather was sick bedridden with the flu, so Lovino was the only one left who could pick up little Feliciano.

Feliciano was the youngest in the family, but he was the little bundle of joy. The miracle child and the lucky star.

Lovino had complained, cursing in Italian as he parked in a nearby street and went out to pick up his little brother. He looked around, and saw that Feliciano was huddling near a tree with three boys looming over him.

What alarmed Lovino was that little Feliciano was sobbing as the three older boys began pushing him around. Big, fat tears plopped down Feliciano's cheeks as the pushing game took a more violent and rougher spin where they replaced the pushing with punching instead.

"Please, leave me alone!" cried poor, little Feliciano.

"Get a load of this runt!" one of the bullies said, his ugly face squashed up into a repulsive grin. "He's such a weakling!"

"Yeah!" the other two, the lackeys in Lovino's opinion, agreed as they punched Feliciano, passing around the much smaller little boy to each other.

"What's with that stupid curl on your head?" the ringleader asked as he yanked hard on the little boy's curl. Feliciano shrieked in pain, his face now colouring into a brilliant scarlet as he wept, trying to pull away. "Maybe I should yank it off."

"Hey!"

During this bout, Lovino had snuck up on the children and grabbed the wrist of the ringleader. The gang of older boys froze in place when they saw that an adult had interrupted them.

An adult with a curl much similar to their victim protruding from his head.

"_Fratello_!" little Feliciano cried in joy. "_Fratello_! You came!"

"What the hell do you think you're doing to my little brother?" Lovino questioned in a deadly quiet tone. "Huh?"

"N-Nothing…"

"Don't fucking lie to me!" screamed Lovino, not caring that he was using foul language in front of children who weren't even twelve. His grip tightened harder on the bully's wrist, "I saw you beat up my _fratellino_ here!" he had ranted in Italian a bit more until finally realizing that everyone looked scared of him, he released the bully's wrist and spat, "Go the fuck home and you better not mess with my little brother again! Or else!"

Once those kids had run off, Lovino had checked on little Feliciano to see if he had gotten badly hurt. He was relieved that it was only a few bruises and nothing drastic like a broken bone. However, knowing that his little brother must have been feeling sore, Lovino carried the child onto his back to the car and even out of it to his room at home.

"_Ti amo_, _fratello_."

Lovino had reddened at that remark, but didn't snap. Instead, he found himself replying with the same remark, albeit a bit hesitantly…

"Lovino," Matthew gently shook the Italian out of his thoughts. "Lovino, we're here…"

Lovino glanced up at the great building that towered over them as he exited from the sleek car. The sun glinted on only one side of the huge, black paned building, and its shadow loomed over a great portion of the streets and stores.

"Well, let's get this over and done with," grumbled Lars as he took out a cigarette. "Wonder what the boss wants _this _time."

"You don't think the police are onto us, do you?" Matthew questioned softly as the three entered the building and feeling the cool air settle on them.

"Doubt it," Lovino snorted. "They're quite stupid – we've been up and about for _ten _years and yet they haven't realized that we're just there in broad daylight in a fucking office building…"

"They don't suspect a thing, Matthew," reassured Lars as they now entered the elevator. "Don't worry about it – the day they find out about us is the day that pigs fly…"

"Knowing you and your tendency to go high with drugs, that won't be far off in future," mumbled Matthew.

Lovino chuckled, "Maple bastard's got you there, Lars."

"Whatever," Lars grumbled as he took a drag on his cigarette.

Hearing the _'ding'_, the three exited the elevator and went through a hallway to the back door, which led to an office. The three walked right on past, politely greeting back anyone who greeted them and finally reached another door that was guarded by two men.

One was a Romanian that had shaggy, strawberry blonde hair as well as a little black top hat perched on his head and had red eyes that glinted with mischief. He was also wearing a black trench coat, and had a sharp fang sticking out from one side of his mouth. He also had two piercings on his left ear. The other man was Bulgarian and he had dark hair, dark eyes, as well as pale skin. He was wearing a green suit, a white tie, and black gloves.

"Hey, if it ain't the terrific trio!" the Romanian man grinned fangs as he commenced with a secret handshake with Lars. "The boss was waiting for you."

"We're not late, are we?" questioned Matthew nervously.

"Only by…five minutes?" the Bulgarian man showed his silver watch to the three.

Lovino seethed, "It's that dumbass kid's fault!"

"Dumbass kid?" the Romanian man asked in interest. "Sounds like you guys had a bit of an interesting encounter. What dumbass kid?"

"Lovino just bumped into some dopey looking brat who didn't look where he was going," Lars said nonchalantly. "High school brat."

The Romanian man spat into the bin, "Kids these days…they lack respect to us elders, I swear!"

"Not all teenagers are like that, Dracul," the Bulgarian man said with a small smile.

Dracul rolled his eyes, "You're kidding me, right? _Every _damn kid I met keeps asking me if I freaking sparkle and if I hate garlic or something! I happen to _love _garlic!" seeing everyone else gazing away, the Romanian roared, "I am _not _a fucking vampire!"

"Can you just cut the chitchat for later and let us in already?" Lars asked, annoyed.

Dracul coughed and knocked on the door in a strange beat. He then called, "Boss, they're here to see you." Hearing the door unlock itself, the three entered as Dracul grinned fangs at them again, "Good luck, you three…"

With a slam, the door closed behind them.

The interior of the office consisted of a great view of the whole city as well as a huge desk right close to it. There were loads and loads of bookshelves, each containing works of literature in all sorts of categories and there was a fireplace nearby, obviously out due to it being a warm season. Behind the great oaken desk was a black, leather chair with its back towards the three.

"Boss…" Lars began, but was cut off.

"Come here, the three of you."

Lovino glanced at Matthew as he took a hesitant step forward behind Lars. The three stood before the desk and the black leather chair. The Italian couldn't help but feel nervous – despite all his years of working here, he had never seen the boss' face before, and the voice enough made chills run down his spine.

"I heard about your little…_mishap_ last night," their boss said in a manner that was far too casual for their liking.

"It was a mistake," mumbled Lovino. "We were supposed to meet them tonight…"

"Do you know how much of a raucous you three caused?" the boss asked, his tone now sharpening. "I received insight that _you _Lovino had caused a mess in the dumpster behind the restaurant, the Golden Dragon."

Lovino froze when he heard his boss continue, "The garbage boy had heard a commotion outside and even stated to the police that he heard the click of a _gun_. Out of you three, you're the one who always wields a gun…"

The Italian gulped, "I can explain…" he began, but was cut off.

"It was my fault."

Matthew and Lovino stared at Lars in shock with widened eyes. The Dutchman had physically taken a step forward as he beat at his chest with a fist, some grey ash sprinkled off of the end of his cigarette as he continued, "I thought that we were supposed to be meeting the contactors that day, and I was the one who suggested that Lovino go to the dumpster to check if they were there. I suggested he go check because from what you said; he's the only one out of us that _always _wields a gun…"

There was a silence that coldly wavered in the air straight afterward. Lovino gave Lars an angry look as if to say, _'What the hell do you think you're doing?!'_ Matthew was now clasping his hands together, anxious of what was to happen.

"I see then," their boss spoke up after what seemed like ages. "I do apologize then, Lovino. Lars, that was a foolish move on your part. I am very disappointed."

Lars sniffed, "Yeah…I was…pretty distracted that day…"

"What were you sniffing that time, Lars?"

The Dutchman bristled; his pale face now tinged red, "Nothing! I wasn't sniffing anything!"

"Do not lie to me, Lars," their boss said smoothly. "I know that you can never focus on your work whenever you're high. It must have been something _really _hard-hitting for you to be so out of it, you caused a raucous and made such poor decisions. It is decided now. Lovino, Matthew, I have a job for you to do right now before you meet up with the contactors…"

"Y-yes?" Lovino asked, trying to keep his voice level. "What is it?"

"I would like you to go to the address that is on the note on your desk," responded their boss. "There is word that the Black Rabbits are trying to infiltrate our stocks from our resource; possibly for their own benefit. I want the both of you to go over there and investigate. Carlos will accompany you. If the Black Rabbits aren't doing anything and the information is proved false, leave immediately. However, if they really are doing something, stop them without causing a great scene and without killing, either. Then come back and report to me. Is that understood?"

"Yes, boss," answered Lovino.

"Y-yes, boss," Matthew stammered out his reply; he had only been working here for two years, after all.

"Hold on, boss," Lars spoke up. "What the hell am I supposed to do, then?"

"For your blunder, you will work here," answered their boss coolly. "You will be doing paperwork with Dracul and Sava to monitor your performance. Once you have completed your paperwork, then you can meet up with Lovino and Matthew at the rendezvous point to meet the contactors."

"Paperwork?" Lars asked incredulously. He grumbled, "Damn, that sucks…"

"You are now all dismissed," said their boss. "Lovino and Matthew, Carlos will meet you at the docks at six in the evening. Do not keep him waiting – we all know he has a short fuse with lateness."

It was plain to see that Lars was furious. "Paperwork my ass!" snapped the Dutchman once they were out of earshot from the boss' office. They walked over to Lars' cubicle where there were stacks upon stacks of paperwork waiting just for him. The Dutchman rubbed his head with a loud groan, "This'll take me _hours _to complete…I won't get to read my book…"

"Glad I'm not in your position, bastard," said Lovino as he patted Lars' shoulder.

Lars only responded with a glare.

* * *

"_Mon ami_, you _are _right!" exclaimed Francis as he daubed at his mouth with a napkin. "These pancakes are _trés magnifique_!"

Gilbert responded with a cackle as he casually leaned back on the booth, "But of course! The places I go to and the foods I eat are awesome! You don't expect anything less than that!" he turned to face his other friend. "How 'bout you, Toni? How you finding the pancakes and maple syrup? Awesome, right?"

Antonio however didn't seem to be paying attention to them. No, instead, the Spaniard was absent-mindedly gazing down at his maple syrup pancakes, poking and playing with them with his fork. His green eyes were slightly glazed as he appeared preoccupied.

"Toni? Toni?" Gilbert shook his shoulder. "Toni!"

"_Qué_?" Antonio gave a start as he glanced around curiously. "Oh, Gilbert. What's wrong, _mi amigo_?"

"What the hell's gotten into you, Toni?" questioned Gilbert. "You've been acting way more spacey than usual!"

"You look distracted," added Francis. "Care to share with us your thoughts, _mon ami_?"

Antonio scratched his head, unsure whether or not to say what truly had been wandering in his mind. To be honest, he couldn't get the Italian man, Lovino, out of his mind. He wasn't sure why though – the man had cursed at him and even flipped him off, but for some reason, his mind blocked out those details and instead, Antonio's focus was shifted onto his eyes.

Those beautiful amber eyes. They glowed with such an intense flame, that they made the Italian's eyes sparkle radiantly.

"He's spacing out again!" Gilbert sighed in exasperation. This time, he smacked Antonio on the back, right at the bottom of the spine, close to his bottom.

Antonio gave a yelp as he was brought back down, crashing into reality. "What was that for, Gilbert?" he whined.

"Ohonhon," Francis gave that weird laugh he always did, which was laced with his French accent. "You are thinking about someone, _non_?" seeing the Spaniard nod, the Frenchman continued, "Is it someone that we have only met today?" seeing Antonio give another nod, Francis pressed further, "Is it somebody with a curl, perhaps?"

Seeing Antonio nod yet again, Gilbert concluded incredulously, "You're thinking about that Italian guy?"

Antonio licked his lips, but he couldn't help but feel his face suddenly go aflame, "_Si_, actually. I'm not sure why, though…"

"Well…he _was_ pretty hot," admitted Gilbert. "Can't be any older than twenty-five or so. If he's thirty or something past that, then it's lies!"

Francis nodded in agreement, "_Oui_, I agree with you there, surprisingly enough, considering our taste in others."

"Hey, I happen to have awesome taste in men and women!" protested Gilbert as he shot the Frenchman an annoyed glare with his crimson eyes.

Francis ignored him and sighed, "Too bad that Italian had a rather…_nasty _mouth on him. When he swore right at you, _Antoine_, I couldn't help but flinch. He's like one of those truckers…"

"Of course you wouldn't like a guy who swears, Francy-pants," teased Gilbert, earning a glare from the Frenchman. "Personally, I don't mind the swearing – I find it funny, actually. Plus, he's fiery and feisty – I like that!"

Antonio gave a weak smile at his friends, "Honestly, _mi amigos_…I was thinking about his eyes the whole time…"

"His eyes?" his friends echoed in unison.

The Spaniard nodded, "_Si_, his eyes. They were just so…beautiful…"

"Beautiful?" asked Gilbert, arching an eyebrow. "Hmm…well, I guess that eye colour is kinda rare. Not as rare as mine, though!"

"Ah, yes those eyes were very dreamy, weren't they?" Francis sighed, giving a slight swoon. "Such a lovely hue…"

"_Si_, they were," responded Antonio, though he felt his mind wander back to Lovino's eyes. Sure, he had only seen that man once, but the Spanish student had to admit – they were some of the most beautiful pair of eyes he had ever seen in his life.

Antonio hoped he could see those eyes and the one who owned them again. Maybe if he saw Lovino next time, he could apologize properly for bumping into him and wasting his time.

"_Mein Gott_!" Gilbert groaned. "At this rate, the soccer team are screwed for their upcoming game on Friday!"

Francis laughed as he shook his head, "It seems that our friend, _monsieur Antoine_, is showing interest in an Italian man." He gave an impish smile, "I never knew that you were interested in older men, _Antoine_."

"He ain't even listening to you," noted Gilbert, looking at the dazed look over the Spaniard's face. "He's just all…spacey and shit…"

"Just leave him to it, _mon ami_," said Francis. "He will snap out of it when the time comes. Otherwise when it's time for us to leave and go back to school, we'll simply either snap him out of his stupor or drag him there ourselves if we have to."

"You guys can go back to school," smirked Gilbert. "I'm staying – this place is _way _awesomer than that shithouse they call a school."

"Do you not have classes with _Antoine _anymore?"

Gilbert frowned, "Yeah, actually…now that you mention it, I might have Chemistry with him or something…" he gave a sigh. "But seriously, this guy's so out of it, I doubt that it's gonna be worth going to school now. He's not gonna be as much fun to talk to like this…"

* * *

_And thus this chapter closes. Honestly, it took me longer to write this chapter than think it up. It came almost instantly to mind, I just had a problem in writing it down, which I naturally found shocking as it was the other way around..._

_Anyway, thoughts and opinions guys? I love hearing them. Have a nice day! :DDD_


	4. Kerosene

_Greetings, HetaWriter/HetaReader here. I apologize for not updating this story, but I've been updating my other fics, too. I'm also trying to think of what to write for the body of this piece (because I have the ending and certain fragments of this story's body written down already). _

_Anyway, I thank you all for being patient and bearing with me. It means a lot that you actually waste your time to read my story. :) _

_Thanks goes to **TarrelYoukai, **__**Nekome-sama,** and__**katie. osborn96 **__for the fave AND the follow, **RoguefanAM **and __**Mafiusu **__for the fave, and **Lolporn**, **Echoes of Shadows**, **ForbiddenTwilit**, **kirin-saga**, **tksskm**, **LeoVargas**, **Silan** **Haye** and **Say-theLastWord **for the follows! Special thanks to those who have reviewed. :)_

**_katie. osborn96: _**_I'm in order now, but I'm still reasonably busy. Thank you very much for the kind words; really, that means a lot to me. :)_

**_Karhien:_**_ Indeed. XD Antonio's always the one who starts liking Lovino, I imagine, because Lovino's just too much of a tsundere. XD I shall try hard! :D_

**_RogueFanAM:_**_ Thank you very much for understanding. :D I realized that after going through a bit of a roller-coaster. Still, one of the reasons why I write a lot is because I want to share my works and see what people's opinions are of them so I can know how to improve or grow as a writer. :)_

_Anyway, shall we continue on with the story? _

* * *

"Hey, I heard that there was that new ice-cream parlour opening up in the Duplex Mall. You wanna join me later?"

"Of course!" Matthew smiled as the car sped faster. "That sounds lovely."

Lovino leaned back in his seat right at the back of the dark green SUV. The Italian was bored mindless right now – he was alone at the back while his colleagues were having a rather rapid chat at the front.

Carlos was a heavyset Cuban man with tanned skin and dark hair tied back into dreadlocks. He always wore a black suit with a colourful polo shirt and smoked as much as Lars. Currently, he had a cigar in his mouth even while he was driving.

Lovino wasn't sure how, but Matthew and Carlos became very close friends. It was slightly odd to the Italian, but they made a great team if Lovino or Lars were busy with other things and if either Carlos or the Canadian needed back up.

But just at that moment, Lovino couldn't help but feel left out and a bit…_awkward_. He was simply a presence there in the background while Carlos and Matthew were chatting up a storm. Right now, they were discussing all kinds of ice-cream flavours and toppings that would cause it to taste much more delicious. Some of the ingredients they spoke of, Lovino didn't even think were possible.

"Hey, you know Lovino could come, too," spoke up Carlos. "I mean, I'm sure it'd be a great way to relax."

"I'm sure he'd love to," smiled Matthew. He turned his head around to face the bored looking Italian, "Right, Lovino?"

Lovino blinked as they finally decided to notice his presence. The Italian snorted, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared out of the window, "Whatever…I got nothing else better to do here…"

"Then it's settled," grinned Carlos. "We'll go for ice-cream on Friday, right? We all have a day-off then."

"Can't wait," the Canadian boy looked genuinely excited.

Lovino rolled his eyes, "Yippee…" he said tonelessly.

His companions didn't seem to detect his cynical tone and continued with their merry conversation. Lovino simply stared through the window as they progressively approached the docks, seeing the boats and metal containers.

Once Carlos parked the car in a secretive, secluded area, the three of them exited their vehicle and prepared themselves. Carlos went to the boot of his car and threw a sniper rifle right at Matthew. The Canadian caught it, fumbling slightly.

Lovino snorted, "Glad you shoot better then catching."

Matthew gave a sheepish smile as Carlos himself took out a submachine gun. Lovino eyed the weapon for a moment and thought that the weapon and the one wielding it were like a match made in heaven.

"Don't need to worry about you," the Cuban man chuckled as he smacked Lovino's back. "You always wield one…"

"Che…" Lovino grunted as he patted his trouser pocket this time. "You bastards ready to move out now?"

"Y-yes…" Matthew nodded, gulping slightly. Lovino couldn't help but sigh; you'd think two years of doing this would be perfectly normal business for the Canadian man.

"Don't worry, Mattie," Carlos gave him a thumbs-up. "They won't get you."

"They won't," agreed Lovino, despite his sharp tone. "You're a sniper – you'd be hiding up somewhere in secret and take out anyone who tries to get us while we're not looking."

"Besides, I'll shoot the crap out of anyone who ever so much as get _near_ you," vowed Carlos, grinning. "I'll blast their heads!"

Matthew smiled weakly, still not _completely _used to the whole business. "T-thanks, guys," he said quietly.

"Now come on, already!" snapped Lovino in a quiet and harsh voice. "_Mateo_, you go scour from that cruise liner over there – it looks like it's taking a pit-stop. Carlos, follow my lead – we have to be careful that nobody sees us. It may be only nine, but there are still some fuckers who work late, and the boss told us not to kill anyone, either…"

"Got it, Vargas," Carlos nodded as he raised his gun.

Matthew nodded, "Good luck, guys…" he whispered as he sauntered off.

Lovino watched the Canadian man go on his way and nodded at Carlos. The Cuban man gave a nod back as the Italian began carefully walking among the docks, crouching slightly.

* * *

"Oi, Lars! Whatcha doing?"

The Dutchman's pale green eyes simply darted to the left; lifted up from the fine, black font that was embedded on the crisp, pale pages. He glared expectedly at a grinning Romanian man. "What the hell do you want, Dracul?" he asked, unimpressed.

Dracul simply shrugged, "Nothing, really – just wondering what you're doing."

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Reading."

"Precisely."

"Hey!" protested Dracul as Lars' eyes returned back to the page. "I'm not done talking with you! Obviously I know it's a book, but what's it about? What's the story?"

"A boy and a man," the Dutchman said nonchalantly, not even lifting up his gaze from the book.

"And…?"

"I don't know, I just started into a few pages," Lars continued to mumble as he resumed with his reading.

Dracul appeared clearly annoyed at the Dutchman's responses, until his Bulgarian partner entered. Sava laughed, "Dracul, you do know that when Lars is focused on something, you don't bother him."

The Romanian man snorted as he rolled his red eyes, "Yeah? Well, I only wanted to know what the story's about. I like a good story now and then."

"_You _like romance?" Lars asked incredulously, now looking up from his book with an arched eyebrow. "Since when?"

"Hey, I happen to be a fan of romance novels!" replied Dracul, looking both hurt and irritated. "I just don't indulge in reading during working times."

Lars arched his other eyebrow, the originally arched one now lowered. "Just what do you read?" he inquired.

"Well, for one thing, I read…"

Sava sighed as he resumed with the paperwork while his Romanian partner began chatting away to the now interested Dutchman. Honestly, he and Dracul had only agreed to help Lars with his punishment of paperwork in the first place because the three of them all wanted in on the action that Lovino, Matthew and Carlos were no doubt experiencing right now.

He let out a soft, fond chuckle as he watched the tall, burly Dutchman nod and gave small, _'ah's' _in response to some of the shorter, more slender Romanian man's opinions and choices of read.

Sava wasn't much of a fan of romance novels himself, but he liked to think that one day, he'd find the perfect woman and spend the rest of his life with her in a small cottage that was close to the sea so the both of them could see the sun set down the horizon…

"Whoa! Didn't know you had a romantic bone in ya, Sava," Dracul smirked now standing over him.

Sava gave a start and his pale face flushed terribly when he noticed that both his Romanian partner and Lars were standing over him. He must've said his thoughts aloud – it was a bad habit that the Bulgarian man had taken in since he was young, but honestly, he didn't know how to stop it and save him from the embarrassment.

"A-ah! Ignore what I said!"

"Didn't know you were fond of romance, too," Lars sounded genuinely surprised as he poked Sava's head. The Dutchman then placed a fist on his hip as he cocked his head to the side, "There anything else you both are hiding?"

* * *

"This is the marine police!"

"Fuck…" Lovino slapped his palm on his forehead, lowering his pistol. "Those shitheads _have _to appear now?!"

Carlos sighed as he shrugged. Their targets however simply looked at the boat that was flashing bright lights at them and didn't seem that panicked, though.

"You are ordered to stand down! This is the marine police!"

On the contrary, one clapped his hands and yelled, "Hell yeah, baby! It's show time!" and with that, he opened one of the huge, silver cases that his group was carrying, and revealed the contents to be a bazooka.

Lovino's amber eyes widened as he saw the man aim the bazooka straight at the ship and fire away, causing a loud explosion to shatter the once still air. The other boats around now noticed what was going on after seeing the now shredded ship and understandably, a great hullabaloo was raised.

The Italian grumbled, "Well, shit…" he shook his head and motioned at Carlos.

The Cuban man nodded as he responded, "Got your back as always, Vargas."

Lovino cocked his pistol and, after swallowing the lump in his throat, ran at a flighty speed and leapt in between two of the storage containers. Because of his rather slim build, the Italian was able to fit in between the tight space and tackled a silver suitcase that one of them was carrying, so that it was now in his grasp.

"What the fuck?!" snapped one of the thugs. "Get him!"

Lovino simply responded by shooting the man in the leg and started to run off with the suitcase. Gunshots were ringing in his ears behind him as Carlos shot down the remaining members of the targeted group by the foot or the leg so they wouldn't run and pursue them anymore.

Some however, were quite lucky.

"Get back here, you little bitch!" snarled one of the thugs.

"Keep going!" Carlos huffed, feeling his lungs starting to give way as he panted. "We're…almost…there…! At out…checkpoint!"

Lovino rolled his eyes, "No need telling me that, twice, cigar bastard!"

"Give it back, damn bitch!" shouted another thug.

"Shut the fuck up, already!" snapped Lovino as he angrily shot two bullets straight at one of the men that was still chasing him and Carlos around. Satisfied at hearing a pained cry, the Italian was able to leap over one of the levels and onto a storage container. Carlos followed suit, but caused a rather loud rattle to shake the still tense air.

"There they are!"

Carlos shoved Lovino in direction to their hidden SUV, almost causing the Italian to trip and fall over. Naturally, this prompted Lovino to flip the Cuban man off, but continue running, suitcase still in hand.

The pair of them continued to run on the top of storage containers, occasionally jumping over gaps to get to the other side, until they reached the very end where concrete ground greeted them. They jumped off and after a while or so of dodging more bullets from their enemies who were pursuing them, eventually came to a dead end where several containers of a strange liquid where stacked nearby, as well as some of the thugs blocking their way.

"Chigi!" shrieked Lovino as he and Carlos skidded to a halt.

They were both surrounded.

"Be a good bitch, and give back the suitcase," the one that Lovino first shot smirked, his greasy hair shining and his rat-like face pulled into a nasty grin. "It doesn't belong to you."

"Fuck you," Lovino spat in response.

Carlos simply squinted his eyes as he tried to make out what the tag of the containers read. It looked so familiar…

"You son of a bitch!" snapped the same man, his rat-like face now stretched into a hideous snarl. "You will _pay _for this!"

"Bring it on, Don Rat!"

Before either Lovino or the thugs could move, Carlos shouted at the top of his lungs, "Kerosene!"

A gunshot was suddenly heard; it was faint, but the blast and damage it caused, wasn't.

The thugs blocking their way yelped and shrieked as they began dancing on the spot, eyes almost popping out of their sockets and the sudden gunshots that were raining down at them in an even tempo.

Carlos took this as his chance to grab and throw them out of his and Lovino's way; chucking them in the way that he and Lovino had run from, and away from the containers. The Italian simply sidestepped and ran to the other side.

When Carlos rejoined him, before the thugs could pursue and chase them around again, another gunshot suddenly hit one of the containers, immediately, spilling its contents on the concrete ground like a gushing river. Another bullet dove into another container, and more of the liquid spilled out, this time, onto the other containers.

Lovino was roughly pulled away from the liquid as he wondered just what the hell it was. He stared up at Carlos in question, only to see the Cuban man take out his lighter – the floral-printed one that he always carried around to light his cigars.

The pair saw the thugs back away from the liquid while the rat-faced one that got angry from being shot by Lovino shouted, "What are you all waiting for?! Get them! You can just get them! They're just there!"

"But, sir…" one of the thugs spoke up nervously. "That's kerosene…"

"So what?! Who cares?!"

"Sir, you _do _know what kerosene does…right?"

Judging from the rat-faced man's shouting, Carlos could see that he didn't. The Cuban man smirked, "Hey!" when they all turned to face him, Carlos continued, "A little science lesson for you fools. Kerosene is a _combustible_, hydrocarbon liquid."

Lovino's mind was at a blank for a moment after hearing Carlos' little statement, but his amber eyes widened when he saw the Cuban man throw the lighter straight at the liquid.

The next thing that followed was a loud explosion that almost shattered Lovino's eardrums, and a great flair of flames and light ignited as soon as the flame from Carlos' lighter made contact with the liquid.

When they reached the SUV, Lovino was beside himself.

"Chigi! You fucking cigar bastard!" shouted the Italian. "That was dangerous as shit that was! What the hell were you thinking?!"

Carlos gave a bellowing laugh as he smacked Lovino's back, almost causing the Italian to fall over, "What? You should be thanking me! I saved your ass back there, Vargas, and you know it!"

"Actually," a quiet voice spoke up. "It is me who you should thank."

Lovino and Carlos looked up in time to see Matthew emerge from the bushes and trees nearby as he rejoined his comrades. The Canadian boy smiled softly as he approached them, carrying his sniper rifle.

"Heh, yeah," Carlos smiled as he ruffled Matthew's pale blonde hair, careful to miss the dangly curl. "Of course! I was only kidding – you saved our asses back there."

Matthew then chuckled, "But then again, I was glad you shouted that it was kerosene – otherwise who knows what would've happened to the both of you."

"We make an awesome team, huh, Mattie?"

"You bet, Carlos!"

"Shut the hell up, both of you, and get in the damn car already!" snapped Lovino, still huffy about the kerosene plan and entered the SUV, giving a loud slam as he closed the door, ready to be driven back to headquarters and see if Lars was able to join them for their second line of duty, which will be taking place that night.

* * *

Antonio huffed as he ran around the football field, sweat pouring down the sides of his head as he forced his legs to pump harder and for his body to move faster.

Once the bout of laps was over, the team were in the field, doing various exercises to build their body up before having drills. Sit-ups, push-ups, the usual.

During sit-ups, though, as he panted and breathed through his mouth as well, Antonio's mind began to wander as he gazed up at the sky.

It was a soft, pale blue with fragments of wispy, white clouds just rolling slowly along by as the sun blared from another angle, shining down onto the Spaniard.

'_Blue…kinda like Joao's eyes…'_ Antonio thought to himself. He always wondered why his older brother had inherited that colour for his eyes; nobody in their family ever had them – his father had deep, chocolate-brown eyes, while their mother had beautiful, grass green orbs; where Antonio had inherited his own eye colour from.

Despite looking obviously related, Antonio also noticed that at the same time, Joao didn't seem related to him at all.

While Antonio was more mellow, carefree and cheerful, Joao was grouchy, hot-headed and very sharp. While the Spaniard spoke either sunnily or gently, Joao would either opt to not talk at all, or else, he would speak words with an acidic bite that could very well pierce someone's being harshly.

Another difference between the two was that Antonio tended to bottle some of his thoughts away. Joao never bottled himself; he spoke how he felt, no matter how harsh and severe his words could be.

The only people he's ever shared his true feeling to were his best friends. To Gilbert and Francis, he was an open book. However, to other people, it seemed that he was a confident, cheerful and charming guy.

They didn't know that Antonio himself had insecurities and worries just like everyone else. He also had hidden aspirations and secrets, too.

One secret was approached on his next thought.

After thinking about Joao for a while and how his older brother was becoming angrier and more on edge, Antonio as instantly brought to another person who was quite similar.

'_Lovino kinda seems like mi hermano,' _the Spaniard thought to himself as he began jogging around with the soccer ball. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself, _'He was so cute when his face turned red like that!'_

From the bleachers nearby, Gilbert stretched as he lazily lay down, giving a yawn. He tilted his head to the side as he watched Antonio during his soccer training. The Prussian boy carefully watched one of his best friends perform out there on the fields during practice, and couldn't help but be both amused and worried for the Spaniard.

It really looked like that Antonio was smitten with the Italian they met before, even if it was just a simply bump-in encounter. However, the Spaniard seemed more out of focus with his soccer training and as a result, got yelled at by the coach for his apparent "_laziness_" and "_sloppiness_" in handling the ball.

By the time practice was over, some of the soccer team opted to just relaxing by sitting on the side of the field. Some of the others however, instead, immersed themselves in a small, fun game of soccer. Gilbert saw the giggling girls that sat at the very bottom of the bleachers immediately approach the group of boys and requested that they play, too. The boys didn't seem to have a problem with it, and allowed the girls to play.

"Hey, Antonio! Mate, you're playing, right?" Jack, and Australian student asked with a friendly beam. When the Spaniard didn't respond, the Australian boy playfully shook his shoulder, snapping him out of his stupor.

"_Qué_?" Antonio shook his head as he blinked. "Sorry, Jack. What was it?"

Jack laughed, "Something flyin' 'round your head, mate? Well, I was asking if you'd like to join us; we're just having a little game right now." He jerked a thumb in direction to the others who were waiting for them.

Antonio gave a sheepish smile as he rubbed the back of his head, "Hahaha…sorry for spacing out on you! But, _si_, okay! I'd love to play! It'd be good practice for Friday!"

"That's the spirit, mate!" Jack patted Antonio's back and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, the two hobbled to them. "Antonio's in my team! Okay?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Very well, _now _can we just play?"

Antonio glared daggers at the British boy, who only returned it with a sharp glare of his own. Jack quickly took Antonio away from Arthur, feeling the heat radiated from the pair of them glowering at each other.

Gilbert watched in interest, now sitting up from his spot on the bleachers as he saw Antonio go in his zone. The Spaniard zipped past the other players, handling the ball with expertise as his foot tapped it back, forth and around other player's feet or between their legs. The Prussian smirked as he shouted, "Go Toni! Go! You're doing awesomely out there!"

Antonio flashed a thumbs-up at one of his best friends as he sped closer to the goal, finally bringing his foot up and kicking the white and black checked ball; which whizzed past the goalkeeper's arms and straight into the goal.

The girls in his team were cheering and giggling, entranced by the skillful Spaniard, while the girls on the opposite team pouted at first, but in the end, forgave him.

During the next game, Antonio outran and escape more of his teammates as he made a gesture in Jack's direction. Understanding, the Australian boy kicked the soccer ball, but not in Antonio's direction.

The Spaniard then ran faster, forcing the blood to pump his legs as he was brought more and more forward.

"Antonio! Antonio!" shouted Mei, a young, Taiwanese girl who dressed quite fashionably. "Here!" and with that, she kicked the ball straight at him.

Antonio simply used his chest first as a bit of a wall so the ball could drop, and he ran forward, weaving himself and the ball around the opposite team's legs and sweaty figures. More beads of sweat dripped from the side of Antonio's own head as he looked around, wondering if he could just simply pass it to somebody else and get a breather.

What he did not expect was to see a figure with a curl.

The Spaniard's jaw dropped when he saw a curl bouncing up and down from outside the gates of his school.

'_Lovino?'_

"Go, Toni! You can do it!"

With Gilbert's cheering cutting him away from his thoughts so abruptly, Antonio instantly brought his foot forward and kicked the ball with a great amount of force.

A loud shriek of pain ripped the once friendly, yet heated air.

* * *

_I apologize if this chapter is rusty, but I'm still adjusting with this piece's flow. The next chapter should hopefully be up sometime next week - simply because I already have the chapter planned out. :)_

_So, thoughts and opinions? Any room for improvement, or do you want to maybe guess on who got hurt?_

_Have a nice day, everyone. :DDD_

_Sincerely  
HetaWriter/HetaReader_


	5. Actions Lead to Consequences

_HetaWriter/HetaReader here. I'll just save it; I told you my updating times are erratic. TTnTT_

_Anyway, BIG thanks goes to** pein-21**, **scarletnight72 **and **Bluebird Rain **for the faves, **How-to-smile101 **and **24gamefreak **for the follow! An especially BIG thanks goes to those who've reviewed, and still stuck by this story. :D_

**_How-to-smile101:_**_ There'll be more, but I need help constructing the body, because it's in pieces. I have an ending and a climax, but the body is still in pieces. TTnTT_

**_Book Thief101:_**_ Just read and find out. ;)_

**_Karhien:_**_ Yes, Antonio has indeed done something wrong. Haha, I always imagined if Lovino was ever part of a gang, then it'll always end in chaos. XD there will be serious stuff with Lovino and his gang, though. Especially when Antonio wades into their world. My, my...that's a lot of guesses. XD just read, and find out. ;) I apologize for the long wait...TT_TT_

_So, shall we continue?_

* * *

Antonio could only stare at what had happened, his breathing paused for about a second or two.

"Oh my God!" squealed Mei as she, Jack, and many of the players on the field ran up to the crouching figure. Even Gilbert had gotten up from his comfortable spot on the bleachers and came over to take a closer look; his full attention captured.

Arthur was crumpling forward as he was clutching at his face with one hand.

"Oi, Arthur! Arthur, you alright, mate?" Jack asked, concerned as he tried to take Arthur's hand off from his face. The blonde Brit shook his head as he tried to swap hands quickly, but to no avail.

There was a trail of red smeared on his hand.

Antonio's blood ran cold upon gazing at it. His throat ran dry as he became speechless at the sight of the red liquid spattered on the British boy's hands. Sure he never liked Arthur and the Brit never liked him, but he never wanted to hurt him like this.

The Brit was _bleeding _from his nose; it could've very well been broken, too!

"Holy shit, that looks painful," Gilbert remarked more out of surprise than worry as he finally shoved his way through lots of people to get to the front and have a better look at Arthur.

The girls agreed as they whispered amongst each other worriedly and continuously cooed over the injured British boy.

Antonio couldn't help but feel the pang of guilt upon gazing at his rival. Arthur's figure was now hunched and close to the ground, curled more inwardly. His bushy eyebrows were furrowed in pain, and his moss green eyes were shining, tears appearing from the corners, but probably due to stubborn pride, refused to let them fall.

It_ really _must have been painful.

"Are you okay, Arthur?" Mei asked anxiously.

"_Frau_, he's bleeding from his nose; does that sound okay to you?" Gilbert responded questioningly, his tone however was very sarcastic.

Mei was about to bite back as the sarcasm in Gilbert's voice was far too obvious, when Jack shook his head and helped Arthur settle down on the grass. "Come on, Arthur…gently…there you go," the Australian boy smiled as he gently got the British boy to sit on his haunches. "Atta mate!"

"What do we do?! What do we do?!" another girl was panicking, distraught over the blood continuously dripping from Arthur's nostrils.

She was probably a haemophobe.

Gilbert rolled his eyes as he then called, "Okay, seriously! Everyone just shut the hell up! You're just distressing the guy! Move back!" He then crouched down to meet Arthur's level. The Prussian shook his head when Arthur was leaning back to try and prevent any more blood from spilling and scaring everyone around him.

"No! _Mein Gott_, man, don't do that!" Gilbert said sharply as he grabbed Arthur by his shoulders and suddenly, in a strangely soft manner, pulled him towards him so that the British boy was leaning forward. He placed a hand behind Arthur's head and slowly kept it leaning forward, "You lean _forward_ when you have a freaking bleeding nose, not back."

Antonio stared at one of his best friends, thoroughly stunned when Gilbert began to take charge of the situation. So far, the Prussian student had snapped at everyone to shut the hell up and back off so that Arthur wouldn't get affected by all the noises and cramped spacing between him and the crowd. Gilbert also threatened to castrate another student for telling him to piss off since Arthur and soccer was none of his business.

"If he has a fucking bleeding nose, it _is _my business!" snapped Gilbert. "Do _you _know what to do when someone has one?"

He was met with silence.

The Prussian scoffed, "Thought so. Now, be a good, unawesome little bitch and go get an ice-pack or something from the office…"

When the same student ran off, Gilbert turned his full attention back onto Arthur and said calmly, "_Ja_…now just keep leaning forward; the unawesome loser will come back with an ice-pack hopefully soon…"

"Why does he have to lean forward, and not back?" inquired Jack curiously.

"Yeah, I know!" piped up Mei, finding the courage to come forward. "I mean, he'll bleed even more, won't he?"

"That's the whole point," responded Gilbert with a serious tone. "You gotta let him bleed. You have to bleed it out." He then used his other hand to then pinch at Arthur's nose, though from Antonio's position, he couldn't quite see what specific area it was; it looked like it was above the nostrils. "Pinch there and breathe through your mouth."

"Hey, I got an ice pack…"

"Finally! Give it to the awesome me."

Arthur was still pinching at his nose, as he was heavily breathing with the use of his mouth. Gilbert then glanced at his watch and gave a grunt, pale face still uncharacteristically serious, "Five more minutes…"

"Five more minutes for what?" questioned Mei, still confused.

"To let him pinch his nose," responded the Prussian student as he stared at the watch's face as the hands moved slowly, ticking away.

Antonio had said nothing while this was all going on; honestly, he was just in so much shock to make a comment.

He really didn't mean to cause Arthur's nose to bleed so profusely; it was an accident! Looking to his left at the school gates, he saw that there was nobody there, which thoroughly confused him; he could've sworn he saw a head with a bouncing curl just outside – was he delirious, maybe? From the intense training and the heat?

Finally, where and when the hell did Gilbert become so… calm and _professional_ with an injury?

It seemed far too out of character for the Spaniard's albino friend; he was usually wild and known for causing a raucous as well as destroying anything that was dead set in his path, and also proclaiming how much of an awesome person he was to anyone who had ears all the while.

Naturally, he was a menace to all the teachers and school staff.

"_Verdammt_! Still bleeding…well, shit…" Gilbert gave a huff. "Anyone got tissues or a cloth or something on them?"

"I have a handkerchief!" spoke up Mei as she took a frilly, pink one from her shorts pocket. "Will that help?" she was responded by Gilbert snatching it away from her grasp in quick time.

"Keep pinching," Gilbert said sternly. "Here…"

The handkerchief was soaked with blood by the time Arthur's nose had stopped bleeding, but luckily for the Brit (and Antonio), his nose eventually stopped after ten or so more minutes passed by.

Poor Mei looked both disgusted and traumatized at having the school president's blood, which leaked from his nostrils, practically dripping from her once perfectly conditioned pink handkerchief. As a result from that, Arthur promised to take the handkerchief home and wash it first, and finally return it back to her once it was thoroughly cleaned and free of his blood.

Antonio was still silent; he didn't know what to say. What _can_ you say to someone you've disliked since you were both children, and who you also possibly almost broke his nose? The Spaniard, after seeing Gilbert and Jack slowly help Arthur to his feet, chose that time to trudge up to him and at least attempt to apologize. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head as he licked his lips, trying to find the right words, "_Arturo_…I'm so—"

"Stay _away_ from me, you wanker," seethed Arthur, glaring daggers right at the Spaniard. "I know you meant that!"

"…huh?"

"Don't give me that stupid look that you pull during class!" the Brit looked furious. "I know you meant that stunt you pulled, and that you meant to break my sodding nose!"

Antonio's jaw dropped at this; was Arthur seriously accusing him of purposely harming him? Sure, he and Arthur didn't get along well – they fought at it worse than cats and dogs – but Antonio would never stoop so low as to do that.

Gilbert could see that the horrified expression on Antonio's face was quickly morphing into anger, and the Prussian decided to play the responsible role and step in before things could get out of hand. He quickly came to Antonio's side, leaving Jack to hold Arthur himself.

"I would _never_ stoop that low!"

"Oh, please! Save your damn sermon; I know you hate me, and well…I hate you, too!"

"I would still never break your nose on purpose!"

"Shut your trap! You meant it, admit it! You meant it, you git! Stop being in bloody denial, and just admit it already!"

"How about I purposely harm you _now_?! I'll make sure you _really _get a broken nose!"

"C'mon, that's enough outta you blokes!" called Jack as he now kept an even firmed grip on Arthur.

"Yeah, take a chill pill, Toni," Gilbert said as he quickly grabbed Antonio by his arms and restrained him by pulling him back.

The Spaniard was ranting, screaming at the top of his lungs in his home language as was his British rival who was getting restrained himself by Jack; the poor Australian boy gave a sigh as he dragged Arthur away to cool down and possibly get him home. Mei had hurried off with her group of girls who were now talking in hushed tones, frightened and flabbergasted upon witnessing what just happened, while the rest of the soccer team left wordlessly, no comment on the event.

"Let go of me, Gil!" snarled Antonio in a ferocious manner; he even bared his teeth. "_Hijo de puta_!Let go!"

"_Nein_!" snapped Gilbert, who honestly felt like he was a weary mother looking after a rambunctious child. He took Antonio out all the way to the car park where a crimson red car was still parked. It was battered and aged on the exterior, with its paint fading away; peeling off with multiple scratches. The interior was made of light-coloured leather seats, but there were a few stains inside as well as some scratches, but they looked far worse than the ones on the car's exterior.

Nonetheless, the Prussian took out his keys with one hand while somehow miraculously still restraining Antonio; but with one arm wrapped around the Spanish boy's waist as he dragged him. Once the locks were undine, Gilbert opened the door to the front passenger's seat and thrust Antonio down into the seat.

"_Ay_!" yelped Antonio as his arm twisted in an awkward position. Thank God it wasn't broken.

He rubbed his arm as Gilbert slammed the car door with a bang that was so loud, that it rattled the whole car's being. Gilbert himself had taken out his mobile phone and began pressing on keys. Antonio could hear a little _'ding'_ and blinked, his anger quickly dissipating when he saw his Prussian friend curse in German and get into the driver's seat as he pocketed his phone.

After putting the key in the ignition and getting the car to run after it gave a feeble cough, Antonio then demanded, his anger momentarily coming back, "What the hell, Gilbert?! What was that all about?!"

"You're giving _me _that question?" Gilbert asked, his face was stretched into an incredulous expression. "The awesome me? _I _should be the one asking _you_ that! You almost blew up at Arthur!"

"He was wrongly accusing me! He thought I harmed him on purpose! You, me and everyone else knew that it was an accident!"

"I know it was an accident, but _Mein Gott_! Use your head for once! Because you blew up like an unawesome brat, everyone will think you _might _have done it on purpose! Seriously! You exploded and almost went in for the kill! And he was already wounded! That's enough to make people question you!"

Antonio glared at the driver, but remained silent; Gilbert had a point there. Though the Spaniard was quite well-liked amongst the majority of his fellow students and peers, there were several who didn't hold him in high regard besides Arthur. Once they heard of what happened during soccer practice in the fields, rumours would spread around like wildfire.

The truth would get twisted over, and be morphed into something ugly. Once it fell on people's ears, Antonio might get into trouble from all of this.

Once that fact settled in, his tanned face started to pale horribly at the thought of getting into trouble – detention was something he preferred not to get, but it was a better punishment as it was on a lesser degree than something like a suspension. His mother would die from heart attack if she found out he somehow gained a suspension.

Joao however, would simply give a laugh at his expense; the dark one he always gains after drinking wine and seeing irony as he mocked his face, body, and anything else related to Antonio.

Antonio might even end up getting a complaint from Arthur's parents.

The Spaniard didn't know much about the Brit's family and home life, except that he was on the better living side of the economical class scale – he lived in a mansion that was a reasonably lengthy way away from the school, the mother was constantly at work, no talk of a father, and apparently Arthur wasn't an only child – he had said one time that he had three older brothers.

Three older brothers definitely didn't sound like a good thing to face.

"You okay, Toni?" Gilbert asked, now worried about his Spanish friend. "See what the awesomeness meant?"

"_S-si_…" Antonio gulped as he rubbed at his temples. "_Ay Dios mio_…I screwed up even more, did I?"

"Kinda…" the Prussian said slowly as they stopped near a traffic light that flashed red. "But really, I see your point, too – I'd be pissed off as hell if someone accused me of almost breaking their nose on purpose, but it was obvious that it was just a damn accident. But, don't worry about it – there were a lot of people watching, and if they know what's awesome or not, they'll say it's an accident and the limey was just being overdramatic because he was bleeding a shitload from his nose."

"Y-yeah…" the Spaniard heaved a heavy sigh. "I guess you're right there…"

"Kesesese!" cackled Gilbert with his odd, little chortle. "The awesome me is _always _right!"

"Well, Gilbert," Antonio gave a small smile. "You wanna come over to my house, then? Well, since you're the one driving?"

"_Ja_, that sounds like an awesome idea," Gilbert nodded, looking smugly content, which made Antonio relieved; the Prussian was acting out of character far too many times that day, and he wanted to see him act normally again. "Play video games?"

"_Si_! Of course!"

* * *

"You think they've got the goods?" Sava inquired from his spot in the back seat on the left.

"Well, if they don't, can we blow their heads up?" Dracul asked from his spot on the right. "Can we?"

"We are _not _blowing up people's heads tonight," Lars said firmly, now getting exasperated as he turned the wheel, rounding down the left turn. The sky was painted black with studs of diamond embedded in the sky, while there were lights blaring from the interiors of houses, as evidenced from the flashes and blaring from the windows.

However, there was minimum activity outside.

It was clear to see that the Romanian man was highly disappointed at hearing the Dutchman's declaration. "Aww…" he whined. "But…it's so much fun! It's part of the fun in this job!"

"Are…are you _serious_, Dracul?" Matthew questioned, looking highly uneasy from his spot at the boot next to Carlos who was whistling a merry tune as he wiped his sub-machine gun with a crisp, clean, white cloth.

"You think I'm seriously joking?" Dracul arched both eyebrows at the Canadian's question. "_Definitely _not! That's one reason why I like doing this job!"

"Shut up, fang bastard!" snapped Lovino. "What are you? A fucking _psychopath_?!"

"Hey, I ain't a psychopath," Dracul scowled, looking hurt at the accusation. "I just like shooting people who are complete dicks to us, that's all. Plus, if you eliminate a group – they won't be able to get after your ass after you assassinate their men, am I right, or am I right?"

Lars sighed as he continued commandeering the vehicle, "I have no idea if it's because you're from Romania, but you are one, _twisted _little dude, Dracul…"

Dracul shrugged, "I can live with twisted."

"Twisted, but not psycho?" Sava asked with an amused smile.

"Of course!" responded Dracul. "We've all got a twist in ourselves! I mean, look at Lovino! He laughs like a maniac whenever someone dies in a horror movie or when we watch Feli and Alfred play those scary video games!"

"Chigi! Do _not _ever call me a maniac _ever _or I'm ripping your tooth out!" roared Lovino, the olive skin on his cheekbones were now dusted red, though it didn't take away the fact that his face was darkening dangerously. "And do _not _ever use the words maniac and my _fratellino _in the same sentence!"

Dracul was very surprised at seeing Lovino act that way, but decided to shut up here; when the Italian's face darkened, it rang warning bells on everyone's minds that they should stop before Lovino unleashed his Italian rage on anyone.

He after all, was a quick shot with a pistol and had one on him handy at all times.

There was an awkward silence that commenced after Lovino gave that furious spit at Dracul, since nobody was willing to talk in fear of either setting off Lovino's rage or just making the scene even tenser and more awkward than before.

Finally, Matthew decided to break the silence by giving the driver a question, "Lars, are we almost there?"

The Dutchman nodded from his seat, "Yeah, we are. Don't worry."

"Fucking _finally_!" groaned Lovino as he rubbed his head, fingers combing through his dark brown locks, carefully missing the strange curl that stuck out from the right side of his head. "About time!"

"How is Feli, anyway?" asked Lars, deciding to keep the silence from coming back. "This is gonna be a late night tonight…"

Here, Matthew was the one that spoke up, "Feli's staying at my house with Alfred. They're sleeping over so they don't get lonely."

"Yeah," Lovino nodded. "Feli hates being all alone, and he cries and whines at me whenever I tell him that I'm coming home late or the next day. So _Matteo _and I agreed to have him and Alfred stay together in someone's house, so…yeah…"

"That's nice," Sava said, eyes gently shut as he gave a nod himself. "It must be nice to have a sibling…"

"It's not," Dracul spat. "Mine's a pain in the ass…"

"I'm sure he can't be _that _bad-"

"Have you _tried _to live with that idiot? He's always whining at me for money and other shit. I'm honestly _glad _I'm not living with my family anymore."

"I'm sure you miss your parents at least," spoke up Carlos. "At least, right-?"

"I don't miss my parents that much, either," snorted Dracul. "My father always cried when he drank; it was such a pitiful sight."

"And why the hell did he even do that?" wondered Lovino, half interestedly curious, half not giving a damn.

"My mother kept running out and chased all kinds of men," cackled Dracul, as if seeing that the whole topic was a hilarious joke. "That's why!" Everyone just stared at him with dumbfounded, flabbergasted expressions, prompting the Romanian man to tilt his head and ask, "What? What are you looking at?"

"Yeah? Well, I love my mama," sighed Carlos as he fondly wiped at his sub-machine gun. "Wonder how she's doing with all my little brothers and sisters…"

"I'm sure they're doing fine," Matthew said warmly. "Will you visit them soon?"

"Hopefully," Carlos heaved another heavy sigh as he finished cleaning his gun. "It'd be good for me, too – I'd like to go back home to Cuba for a bit…"

"I feel you there, my friend," Sava spoke up with a soft smile on his pale face. "I miss my home country of Bulgaria."

Lars kept his eyes on the road while he listened attentively to the conversation of his friends at the back; it was interesting to hear about other people's cultures. He didn't know how or why he even cared, but he just did.

It definitely wouldn't have been the case years ago; the Dutchman would've just ignored them with a cold expression, and simply think about what lay ahead, which would maybe be dangerous. It was a subject Lars preferred not to immerse himself with, especially since he had a little sister that was still only a child. However, despite how bumbling these men could be, he felt much safer with this group than with the most trained men in the world.

And he wouldn't trade for them, either.

Lovino himself was listening vaguely to the conversation as Sava, Dracul, Matthew and Carlos were having a hearty discussion on home countries, and sharing cultural facts around. The Italian fixated his amber orbs outside the window as he saw that the moon was glowing proudly outside; emitting a soft, ethereal white light.

He hoped that Feli was fine at Matthew's house.

* * *

"Dude! That smells so awesome!" a young fourteen-year-old boy with blonde hair that had an ahoge exclaimed. His baby blues were sparkling from behind clear glasses, magnifying the youthful vigour there.

"It's pasta, Alfred!" grinned a boy about the same age with auburn hair that had a curl that stuck out from the left side of his head. "Of course it'll be awesome!"

"Oh man, Feli," Alfred licked his lips, eager to dig in. "I'm so hungry now!"

"Well, dig in!" laughed Feliciano a.k.a. Feli in a merry tone. "Let's eat before it gets cold! Cold pasta is a no-no!"

"Hell yeah!"

Feliciano couldn't help but giggle at the sight of his best friend shovelling mouthfuls of pasta into his mouth, his expression full of bliss as he ravenously ate on like a hungry beast. The Italian didn't mind that Alfred was eating in that manner, in fact, he was delighted; it showed that someone really loved his food, and thought it was splendid.

And honestly, Feliciano really missed having someone to eat with, too. Lovino would go out to do his job for hours on end; coming home the next day at the same time at the longest.

The Italian boy knew that his _fratello _was engaged in a dangerous job, something that Alfred insisted on calling, _'the thug life,'_ (though Feliciano insisted that Lovino was far from a thug), but he obviously couldn't help but worry about him, too.

After all, the job involved guns, and Feliciano associated guns to danger.

'_Oh…I hope he doesn't get hurt!' _the young Italian thought to himself, now feeling anxious for his brother while Alfred continued eating.

He then remembered an event earlier that day; he and Alfred were walking home from school, passing by a high school that was situated close by, when they saw what appeared to be that high school's soccer team playing a little game. Alfred wanted to pause for a moment to watch, being an avid sports fan, and so he and his blonde best friend watched with interest.

Feliciano remembered Alfred admiring one of the boys; he appeared to be a lean, well-toned Latino, with dark, chocolate bangs, tanned skin of an exotic hue, and burning, emerald green orbs.

However, when he looked their way as he was handling the ball, his mouth dropped when he caught sight of Feliciano.

Here, the Italian felt uneasy; why was he staring at him like that?

The next thing that happened was very disastrous.

The soccer player had kicked the ball out of reflex rather than on purpose after a rather scary-looking guy had cheered in a loud, booming voice from the bleachers.

The ball had smashed into another boy's face; a blonde with what appeared to be two, fuzzy caterpillars on his face, and after giving a screaming shriek that was traced with raw pain, Alfred and Feliciano could only stare with dropped jaws at what happened.

Just at how downhill it quickly became.

Feliciano immediately fled from the scene when he could see a little patch of red that was leaking from the wounded, bushy-browed boy's nose, and onto his hands, staining the front of his shirt with blossoming patches of crimson.

Alfred here stopped eating and became concerned upon seeing his best friend becoming quiet; it really wasn't like him.

Feliciano was just as chatty and outgoing as he was; they were the perfect match.

So, that was why the blonde spoke up, "Yo!"

Feliciano blinked and shook his head, "_Sí_? What is it, Alfred?"

"You alright, dude?" questioned Alfred, genuinely worried for Feliciano. "You don't look so good, man. And you and I both know that's weird-as! You _love_ pasta!"

"Oh, don't worry!" Feliciano gave a small smile here; though Alfred was usually perceived as a dense person (much like Feliciano himself), the American boy had the capability of being observant and analytical if he wanted to.

He just wasn't motivated to do so, really.

Alfred however, wasn't convinced, "Seriously, man…what's up? You know you can tell me!"

"Ve~ well…" Feliciano licked his lips. "It's just…I'm worried about _fratello_, that's all. I mean, what if he gets hurt? Like that boy with the funny eyebrows who got hit in the nose? Oh! What if it's even worse?!"

Alfred could clearly see that Feliciano was on the verge of crying; he was always a sensitive soul, God have mercy on the poor thing. The Italian was now babbling on and on, on how worried he was for his older brother.

The blonde himself knew that his own older brother was engaged in such activities, much like Feliciano's brother. Hell, they were in the same gang! However, Alfred knew by now that his brother had chosen that life, and that he wouldn't have chosen it, if he knew that he wasn't capable of looking after himself.

Though Alfred himself worried over his own brother, he had a lot of faith in him, and was positive that he'll always come home to play catch with him.

"Hey, dude," the bespectacled blonde got out from his seat and decided to give Feliciano a hug; you always give the Italian one whenever he was upset – signs of physical affection worked wonders on him. Once Feliciano quietened down, finally becoming calm again, Alfred continued, "Dude! Your brother's pretty kick-ass; you think he can't do this?"

"N-No…" sniffed Feliciano, a tear almost leaking from one of his eyes. "But…"

"He's a good shot, right?"

"Yes, yes he is."

"And he's with my brother, right?"

"Yeah…"

"And he can take care of himself, right?!"

"_Sí_! Yes! He can!"

Alfred gave a loud laugh as he patted the top of Feliciano's head, "See my point, man? Your bro's fine! Mine's gonna be fine, too! As long as they're together, I think, no…I'm _totally positive_, that they'll kick ass together!"

Feliciano smiled up at the blonde, "_Sí_. You are right, there, Alfred. _Grazie_. Thank you very much for that."

"It was no problem, dude," Alfred grinned, beaming a warm smile at the Italian. "Hell, I get worried for Mattie, too. But I know he'll always come home – he's so invisible, that the bullets will just fly through him!"

* * *

_Well, this chapter comes to a close. _

_**What to look forward to (and a little reminder for myself as well):**  
There'll be a fast forward in the next chapter where after they meet at the checkpoint, Lovino and the gang will meet up the contacts again, this time in a much more secluded area. The big soccer game for Antonio is also on the same day. _

_I'm also considering suggestions, since this story is the most unplanned out of all of my pieces - the body, as I mentioned before, is literally in pieces: I typed up only various segments, and the only thing that's full is the ending and the climax (which are the final two or so chapters). I also, don't honestly know how long this story will even be, but I have a feeling that if people review awesome ideas, then it may be long._

_Thoughts, opinions and suggestions? I really would like that. :) _

_Have a nice day, all! _

_Sincerely,  
HetaWriter/HetaReader_


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